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✓A 






THE NEGRO AMERICAN 

A SERIES 

BOOKER 

T. 

WASHINGTON 


SCHOOL 


> 

by 


EMMA E. AKIN 

\l 

Supervisor of 
Elementary Grades 
Drumright, Okla. 

HARLOW PUBLISHING 
CORPORATION 

OKLAHOMA CITY 

1938 









Copyright 1938 
by 

Harlow Publishing Corporation 


MR -1 1938 


©Cl A 114672 


This book is dedicated 
to America’s Negro Boys and Girls. 
















#. 





/ 


























WHY THIS BOOK WAS MADE 


Boys and girls, this book was made to 
help you learn more about your own people. 
You will enjoy seeing the real pictures of 
Negro children and Negro leaders. 

You will be proud of the Negro race and 
of the many fine things your people are do¬ 
ing. You will want your school to be as much 
like the Booker T. Washington School as you 
can make it. 

Try to remember some of the things Mr. 
Booker T, Washington told his people. 

This book will tell you something about 
what it means to be a good American citizen. 

You will like the stories of friendship be¬ 
tween black and white people. You will learn 
that even a small child can do much for his 
home and his race. 




Stories in This Book 


September (Poem) . 1 

A New School...... 2 

Lunch Time . 10 

The Palace of Politeness_ 13 

Buying Books ______ 25 

New Books....... 31 

A Book (Poem) ........ 43 

More About Booker T. Washington. 44 

The College Examination__ 57 

A Good Citizen..... 66 

John Henry’s Surprise .. 72 

Color Bearers......—. 88 

Color Bearers for the Race.. 98 

Planning a Library... 110 

Making Pop Corn Balls. 120 

Good Reports. 129 


















Extra Money .. 138 

Thanksgiving . 145 

Black Sambo and LiT Hannibal.. 152 

Friends Who Help. 161 

John Little... 165 

Helping Homeless Children... 170 

Gifts (Poem) . 179 

Signs in the Park.. 180 

The Small Black Boy___ 185 

After the Story. 207 












September 

Bells are ringing, 
Happiness bringing; 
Children are singing, 
School time is here! 


(1) 


A New School 



John Henry Jackson was not happy. His 
father had found work in town, and had 
moved his family from the farm. 

John Henry did not like the town. He 
had no friends 
there. He missed 
the trees and flow¬ 
ers. He missed the 
birds and animals. 
Most of all, he 
missed his teacher 
and his school 
friends. 

“I do not want 
to go to a new 
school,” he said. “I 


want my own school.” 

John Henry’s mother wanted him to be 
happy. 

“Have you shined your shoes?” she 
asked. “Be sure to brush your hair. Put on 
this pretty new shirt, and tie your tie care¬ 
fully. There! How well you look! I am proud 
of you, John Henry. Now run along to school. 
The boys and girls will say, ‘Who is that new 
boy? He looks clean and neat. We want to 
know him.’ ” 

John Henry said, “You are a good moth- 





er. I feel better now. I am ready to go to 
school.” And away he ran. 

The teacher met him at the door. She 
said, “Good morning! My name is Mrs. John¬ 
son. I teach the third grade.” 

John Henry told Mrs. Johnson his name. 
He gave her the card he had brought from 
his other school. She asked him to find a seat 
where he could be quite comfortable. Then 
she said, 

“Boys and girls, shall we play a game 
that will help us know each other better?” 

“That will be fun!” the children said. 

“First, each of us will stand and tell his 
name so that all can hear,” said Mrs. John¬ 
son. “Listen carefully! In the next part of 
the game you will need to remember the voice 
as well as the face.” 

When all the children had told their 


( 4 ) 


names, Mrs. Johnson said, “Helen, you may 
go to the front of the room and hide your 
eyes.” 

Then Mrs. Johnson whispered some¬ 
thing to Harold. He said, “Good-morning, 
Helen.” 

Helen turned around and looked at all 
the boys and girls. She said, “It was Horace. 
Good-morning, Horace.” 

The boys and girls laughed. “It was not 
Horace,” they answered. 

“You may have two more guesses,” said 
Mrs. Johnson. 

“May I hear him again?” asked Helen. 
She turned her back and hid her eyes once 
more. 

Harold said, “Good-morning, Helen.” 

She turned around with a smile and said, 


(5) 



“Good-morning, Harold! I knew you that 
time.” 

The boys and girls laughed and clapped 
their hands. “That is a fine game,” they 
cried. 

When John Henry’s turn came, he 
guessed right the first time. Every one 
seemed happy because he guessed so well. 
They clapped and clapped for him. 

After the game, the teacher told them 
a story. It was a story of a little boy and his 
dog. 

The children liked the story very much. 

( 6 ) 




They said, “That is a good story, Mrs. John¬ 
son. Will you tell us another good story?” 

“Not today,” replied Mrs. Johnson. “It 
is time to go home. Before you go, I shall 
give each of you a list of books you will need. 
Take the list home to your mothers. Try to 
get your books today. We shall use them 
tomorrow. There will be no school this after¬ 
noon.” 










“Why do we not have school this after¬ 
noon?” asked Helen. 

“We can not have school without books,” 
Horace said. 

“That is right, Horace,” said Mrs. John¬ 
son. 

“Good-bye, Mrs. Johnson,” the children 
said. “Good-bye till nine o’clock tomorrow.” 

“Good-bye,” said Mrs. Johnson. “I shall 
look for all of you in the morning.” 

HOW WELL DID YOU READ? 

1. Why did John Henry not like the 
town? 

2. How did his mother help? 

3. Which do you like better, the farm 
or the town? Why do you like it better? 

4. Play the Good-morning Game. 


(8) 


5. Name the children in the story. 

6. Which two words in this group de¬ 
scribe John Henry’s teacher best? 

cross helpful pretty 

kind tall little 

7. What would you call John Henry’s 
mother? 

8. What would you call John Henry’s 
father? 

9. In the Good-morning game, who 
guessed right the first time he tried? 


( 9 ) 


Lunch Time 


When John Henry came home for lunch 
he looked happy. 

“Mother!” he called, “I like the new 
school. I know the teacher now. Her name 
is Mrs. Johnson. She let us play a game. 

It was a name game. It helped 
us learn the names of the other 
boys and girls.” 

“Tell me about it,” said 
Mrs. Jackson. 

“Wait until Father comes 
home. Then we can play the 
game,” answered John Henry. 
“That will be more fun. I must 
wash my hands now. I think 
I shall always wash my hands 





before I eat.” 

John Henry took some 
warm water. He found 
some soap. He washed and 
dried his hands carefully. 

He cleaned his nails, too. 

When he had brushed 
his hair and straightened 
his tie, he said, 

“Now, I am ready for lunch.” 

He stood behind his mother’s chair. He 
held the chair back from the table so that 
she could sit in it. Then he went to his place. 
He laid his napkin on his lap. He used his 
fork in eating the warm meat and vege¬ 
tables. He took small bites and ate the food 
slowly. He drank his milk quietly. 

When he had finished eating, he said, 



(id 






“That was a good lunch, Mother.” 

“Thank you, John Henry,” replied his 
mother. “I am glad you liked it. You are a 
polite boy today.” 

“Yes,” laughed John Henry. “Mrs. 
Johnson told us a story about being polite. 
It is a funny story, but it made me remember 
to be clean and polite. May I tell you about 
it?” 

“Please do tell me,” answered his moth¬ 
er. 

“It is a story of a little boy and his dog. 
It is called the Palace of Politeness,” said 
John Henry. 


(12) 


The Palace of Politeness 

Once there was a little boy whose name 
was so hard to remember that his family 
called him Brother. Because he was the only 
boy in the family, he always knew who was 
wanted when he heard any one say, “Broth¬ 
er.” He lived with his mother, his father, and 
his three sisters. 

He often heard 
his family talk of a 
place called the Pal¬ 
ace of Politeness. He 
asked a great many 
questions about the 
Palace. “It must be a 
fi n e p 1 a c e,” h e 
thought. “I will try to 
go there.” 




A big brother would have gone with him 
to hunt through the woods for the Palace; 
but he had no brothers. His sisters always 
smiled when he asked them to help him. They 
said, “Some day, if you try and try, you may 
And the way to the beautiful Palace of Polite¬ 
ness.” 

Brother went into the woods every day 
to look for the path 
that led to the Palace. 
He asked the birds and 
the animals if they 
knew where to find it. 
They always looked 
hard at him but said 
nothing. H e asked 
the fish in the stream 
that ran through the 
forest. They only 



fanned their tails faster 
and went deeper into the 
water. 

One day Brother climbed 
a tall tree. He thought he 
might see the Palace from 
the top of the tree. Just as 
he came to the highest 
branch, and was getting 
ready to look out over the 
tree-tops, something hap¬ 
pened! He heard a snap. 
Then he began to fall down, 
down, down. He 
tried to catch the 
branches as he 
fell but he 
was going 


too fast. At last one of the tree’s big arms 
reached out and took hold of his trousers. It 
held him high up in the air. He jumped and 
kicked! He shouted and called! All at once 
he heard his trousers tear, and before he 
knew what had happened, he found himself 
on the ground under the big tree. 

A little gray rabbit came down the path. 
It jumped aside to keep from being hit by the 
falling boy. 

Soon a family of squirrels came down 
the path. They were laughing and talking. 

Next, Brother’s own dog, Zip, came by. 
Zip did not see his master. His head was 
near the ground and he followed his nose 
with a trot, trot, trot. 

“Here, Zip! Here, Zip! Come here!” 
called Brother. Zip did not seem to hear. He 

put his nose to the ground and trotted on. 

( 16 ) 


“Where can they be going in such a 
hurry?” thought the boy. “I shall follow 
them and see.” 

The bushes were thick. The path was 
not wide. Sometimes it was hard to find the 
way. At last Brother came to a place where 
he had to get down on his knees and crawl 
under the bushes on the hard rocks. It was 
dark there but he could see light ahead. Sud¬ 
denly he stopped: 

“What a surprise! 

What a surprise! 

Can I believe 
My own two eyes?” 

Right in front of him stood a beautiful 
green palace. Its color was so much like the 
green of the trees that no one could ever have 
found it if he had not been quite near and 
looking for the Palace. 

( 17 ) 



Brother came 
to the Palace 
just in time to 
watch Zip trot 
right through 
the front door 
without knock¬ 
ing. 

“Here, Zip!” 
he called, 
“Come back 
here!” 


Zip did not 

seem to hear. He was still following his nose. 

Brother looked through the window. He 
saw a long table covered with a clean white 
cloth. Lunch was ready. But what a strange 
lunch! And what a strange family! 

There were Father and Mother Cotton- 
( 18 ) 


tail; Peter Rabbit and the Four Little Cotton¬ 
tails; Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel and the Squirrel 
Twins; Sly Fox and Smiling Old Brother 
’Possum; the Three Little Kittens that lost 
their mittens and many other prominent for¬ 
est folks. 

They all stood politely behind the chairs 
around the table. Just at that minute Brother 
saw Grandmother Turtle crawl slowly to the 
head of the table. Peter Rabbit pulled back 
her chair and she was getting ready to sit on 
it, when Zip followed his nose right into the 
room. 

“Fine! Fine! Fine!” he barked loudly. 
“My nose told me which way to go. I’m just 
in time for lunch.” 

He trotted up to the table and chased 
Pussy Cat out of her place. Every one looked 
at Zip in a queer way. His tongue was hang¬ 
up 


mg out of his mouth. His face was dirty. His 
hair was not brushed. His nails were long 
and rough. Oh, my! He was in no condition 
to come to a clean table! 

Grandmother Turtle hid her face under 
her shell shawl and said, “Will some one 
please take him out and wash him? I can not 
bear to look at him. I shall not show my face 
again while that dirty dog is here. Where did 
he learn such manners? Out with him! Out 
with him!” 

Kind Mother Goose took Zip by the paw 
and led him from the room. They were gone 
a long time. The others stood still behind 
their chairs and waited. 

At last they heard the soft patter, patter 
of Zip’s feet as he trotted down the hall. 
Mother Goose came in all out of breath from 


( 20 ) 


trying to waddle fast enough to keep up with 
Zip. 

Grandmother Turtle put her head out of 
her shell shawl just far enough to see how 
Zip looked. She blinked her eyes in surprise. 
His face was clean! His nails were even. His 
coat was smooth! 

Without a word, Grandmother Turtle 
sat in her chair at the head of the table. Zip 
jumped into place between Big Pig and Little 
Billy Goat Gruff. Oh, how he did act! 

While Father Bear said a little prayer, 
all the other forest folk bowed their heads 
and folded their front feet. But Zip was no 
sooner seated than he began to reach for this 
and for that. By the time Father Bear had 
finished the prayer, Zip’s plate was full and 
his mouth was running over. He took big- 

bites and swallowed them whole. Then he be- 
( 21 ) 


gan calling loudly for more food. What he 
did not get and could not reach, he crawled 
after. 

He knocked his fork and spoon off the 
table. He ate the meat and vegetables right 
out of the bowls. He upset his milk and lapped 
it off his chair with his tongue. He threw the 
eggs on the floor, saying, “I don’t like eggs.” 

He ate so much that the other animals 
did not have enough. When he had eaten all 
he wanted, he jumped down from the table 
and trotted out to play without even saying 
“Thank you” or “Excuse me.” 

Brother was so ashamed of Zip! He 
thought to himself, “I must teach him to be 
more polite. Imagine acting like that! Why 
I don’t act that way, even at home. Oh, to 
think my dog would be so rude in the Palace 


( 22 ) 


of Politeness! Why, manners like that will 
disgrace my whole family!” 

SOMETHING TO DO 

1. Count the polite things John Henry 
did at lunch time. 

2. Tell which of these you do at home. 

3. What did Zip do that was not polite? 

4. Where do you put your napkin when 
you eat? 

5. For what do you use your knife? 

6. For what do you use your fork? 

7. For what do you use your spoon? 

8. What do you do if you upset your 
milk? 

9. How do you ask for food? 

10. What do you say when you want to 
leave the table? 


11. Do you thank your mother for a 
good lunch? Why? 

12. Do you say, “I don’t like this”? 


( 24 ) 


Buying Books 

“We must go to town/’ 
said Mrs. Jackson. “Do you 
have a list of the books your 
teacher wants you to buy?” 

“Yes, Mother,” replied 
John Henry. “Here is the 
list. It is a long one. Will it 
cost much money?” 

His mother said, “I 
hope the books will not cost 
much money. Your father has had only one 
pay day. I have only five dollars to spend to¬ 
day.” 

Mrs. Jackson put her hat on. She looked 
in her purse to be sure the five dollar bill was 
there. Then she said, “Are you ready, John 
Henry? It is time to go.” 



John Henry opened the door for her. He 
waited until she was outside. Then he came 
out behind her. 

He walked on the side nearest the street 
all the way to town. When they came to a 
street crossing-, he watched for the green 
light. There were no lights, so he looked up 
the street and down the street. No cars were 
coming. John Henry said, “It is safe for us 
to cross.” 

On the way to town, they met one of the 













girls from his room at school. John Henry 
tipped his cap and smiled. 

She smiled and said, “Good-afternoon, 
John Henry.” 

He said, “Good-afternoon, Betty.” 

“You are making friends in a hurry,” 
said his mother. “How did you know her 
name?” 

“The game we played at school helped,” 
replied John Henry. “But here we are at the 
book store.” 

John Henry opened the door and let his 
mother go in first. He took off his cap and 
held it in his hand while he was in the store. 
Many people were there. They all wanted to 
buy books. John Henry and his mother 
waited a long time. 

At last the man who sold the books said 
to them, “What can I do for you?” 

( 27 ) 



John Henry gave the list to his mother. 
She said, “We want the books on this list, 
please.” 

John Henry wanted to help add the bill. 

He thought adding was fun. As the man put 

( 28 ) 


each book on the table, John Henry asked 
the cost, and wrote it on a piece of paper. His 
paper looked like this: 


Reader .$ .52 

Arithmetic. 39 

Speller . 22 

Language . 44 

Tablet.....-.. .05 

Pencil . 05 

Crayolas. - -10 

Drawing Paper .10 

Paste . 05 


The man who sold the books put a pretty 
blue paper around them. He told Mrs. Jack- 
son the cost. She gave him the five dollar bill. 
John Henry had added the bill. He knew 


( 29 ) 












how much change the man should give his 
mother. 


THINGS TO DO 

1. Can you find how much John Hen¬ 
ry’s books cost? 

2. Which cost less, the reader or the 
paste? 

3. Play that you are the man. Count 
the change to your teacher as you think he 
counted it. 

4. Can you find out how much your 
own books cost? 

5. Which cost more, John Henry’s 
books or your books? 


( 30 ) 


New Books 


John Henry was pleased with his new 
books. He wanted to look at them as soon as 
he reached home. He had never owned a lan¬ 
guage book before. He had never owned an 
arithmetic. He thought, “I will study my 
arithmetic first.” 

In his haste, he opened the book quickly. 
It did not stay open. He pulled it wide open 
and pressed hard. Snap! The book’s back 
was broken. 

“Oh, I am so sorry!” he said. 

Mrs. Jackson sat down beside him. She 
was not cross. As he handed her the book a 
piece of paper fell to the floor. “Look! ” cried 
his mother. “This paper tells how to open a 
new book. Let us see if we can follow direc- 


( 31 ) 


tions and open the book as it says to do. Can 
you read what it tells us to do?” 

John Henry read the directions from the 
paper. Then he tried to remember them as 
he opened one of the books. 

“First,” said John Henry, “Lay the book 
flat on the table with the back cover next to 
the table.” 

“Second, lift all of the book but the back 



cover from the table and crease very care¬ 
fully along - the part where the back cover 
joins the book.” 

John Henry’s mother sat quietly and 
watched him as he learned to open his new 
book. She felt proud to know that he could 
read and follow directions so well. 

“Third,” said John Henry, “close the 
book. Turn it over so that the front cover will 
lie flat on the table. Now, lift all the book 
but the front cover and crease along - the 
place where the front cover joins the book.” 

John Henry’s mother sat very still and 
watched him. She wanted him to open the 
book alone. 

“Fourth, lay the book with both the 
front cover and the back cover flat on the 
table. 

“Turn five or six pages from the front 

( 33 ) 



and crease carefully near the place where the 
pages join each other. 

“Turn five or six more pages and crease 
in the same way. 

“Do this until all the book has been 
opened and creased.” 

“That is fun!” said John Henry. “See 
how easily the book opens now? I shall open 

(34) 





all my new books that way. There will be no 
more broken backs in my book family.” 

“How many new books do you have, 
John Henry?” asked his mother. 

“Let me think. I have an arithmetic, a 
reader, a language, and a speller. That 
makes four new books. My, My! What a li¬ 
brary I have!” 

“Once,” said his mother, “there was a 
boy who never had a book until he was about 
nine years old. This boy loved books. When 
he became a man he wrote books. Have you 
heard of him?” asked Mrs. Jackson. 

“He missed some fun when he was 
little,” said John Henry. “Tell me about him.” 

“At the time he was born, there were no 
schools for colored children. This little boy 
often carried books to school for his master. 


( 35 ) 


Sometimes he looked into the school room 
and saw the white boys and girls reading 
their books. He thought, ‘How good it must 
be to go to school! Some day I will go to 
school, too. I will learn to read books and 
papers. Then I shall be happy.’ 

“But he was quite a large boy before his 
mother could get even one book for him. His 
first book was not a new book, at that. It had 
no pretty pictures and no good stories in it. 
There were no numbers to add and subtract. 
You might have thought it was not an inter¬ 
esting book at all. It was only an old blue- 
back speller with A,B,C’s and such strange 
little words as ‘ab,’ ‘ba,’ ‘ca.’ They look like 
baby talk to us don’t they? 

“But this boy had wanted a book for 
many, many years: This was his very own 
book. It made him happy. 

(36) 


“He thought that the way to begin to 
learn to read was to study the A,B,C’s. There 
was no one to help him. His mother and 
father could not read. His brothers could not 
read. His friends could not read. He did not 
have a teacher. What could he do? 

“He looked at the letters and tried to re¬ 
member them. He thought of them as he 
worked in the salt mines all day long. He 
often closed his eyes and tried to imagine 
just how they looked. They were such strange 
black marks on white paper. Some of them 
looked like bugs. Others seemed more like 
little snakes. 

“When he came home from work, tired 
and hungry, he sat 
on the dirt floor of 
his cabin and drew 
pictures of the 




queer little letters. 
He had no paper 
and no slate. He 
had no pencil. 
What do you think 
he did? He wrote on the dirt floor with a 
stick! 

“Booker wanted, so much, to learn to 
read. He often dreamed of the A,B,C’s at 
night. During the day, whenever he had 
time, he would draw one of the strange let¬ 
ters on the ground. ‘What is this?’ or ‘Is this 
an A or a D?’ he would ask any one who hap¬ 


pened to be near. 

“The men at the salt mines soon learned 
not to be surprised when he asked them about 
letters and words. At last he learned the 
A,B,C’s. But that was only the beginning. 

• “He kept on trying until he had learned 

( 38 ) 


to read. A few years later, when a young- 
man came to the little town and began teach¬ 
ing school, Booker was one of his very best 
pupils. He could not understand why Booker 
read so much better than the others. It was 
hard to believe that this boy had not gone to 
school before.” 

“Who was the boy who taught himself to 
read, Mother?” asked John Henry. 

“His name was Booker T. Washington,” 
answered Mrs. Jackson. 

“Oh, I know about him,” said John 
Henry. “He is the man who became a great 
teacher. He taught our people how to make 
better farms and better homes.” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Jackson. “He taught 
us that it is no disgrace to work if we do our 
work well, and if we are clean and honest. He 
thought no one could be happy unless he 

( 39 ) 


worked to make others happy, too. 

“But he taught us to love books, and to 
read them when our work is done. When he 
was a young man, he began building a library 
for himself. He bought as many books as he 
could. He always took care of his books be¬ 
cause he believed them to be very good 
friends. 

“When Mr. Washington became a man 
he wrote some books. In one of them he said: 




“ The happiest people are those who do 
the most to make others useful and happy.’ ” 

DO YOU KNOW? 

1. Which two words best describe John 
Henry’s mother? 

happy helpful tall 

kind careful grand 

friendly cross 

2. Which word tells the book John 
Henry liked best? 

Reader Speller Language Arithmetic 

3. Is it better to open a new book 
quickly or carefully? 

4. Who taught Booker T. Washington 
the A,B,C’s? 

5. Which word names Mr. Washing¬ 
ton’s first book? 

Arithmetic Speller Language Reader 


( 41 ) 


6. How do you open a new book? 

7. What would you do if you had no 
teacher? 

8. What makes people happy? 


A Book 


A good book looks you in the face. 

It does not ask what fame or disgrace, 
What manners of grace, what garments of 
lace, 

What station or place you hold in life’s race. 

A good book speaks of friendly cheer. 
Its silent voice is pleasing to hear. 

It dries your tear and quiets your fear, 

Or moves you to think and work, my dear. 




More About Booker T. Washington 

“Look! Here comes Father!” cried John 
Henry. “Why is he coming home so early? 
Can he be ill?” 

“No, John Henry,” said Mrs. Jackson. 
“It is five o’clock. Your father comes home 
every day at five o’clock. We have been so 
busy talking and looking at your new books 
that we forgot everything else. Time always 





flies faster when we are busy and happy.” 

“I must show Father my new books,” 
said John Henry. 

“And I must cook Father some dinner,” 
laughed Mrs. Jackson. “He is always hungry 
after a hard day’s work.” 

“I think I am hungry, too,” said John 
Henry. “I believe buying new books and 
learning how to take care of them must be a 
hard day’s work for a boy like me. Will 
we have a good dinner?” 

Before Mrs. Jackson could answer, Mr. 
Jackson was at the front doo?. John Henry 
ran to meet his father. “I will take your 
lunch basket to the kitchen,” he said. “You 
must be tired after working all day.” 

Mr. Jackson was pleased. “Thank you,” 
he said. “I am tired; but a good bath will 
make me feel like a new man.” 

( 45 ) 


While John Henry was helping his fath¬ 
er fill the tub with clean, warm water, Mr. 

Jackson said, “Booker 
T. Washington did not 
know what it meant to 
take a bath when he 
was little, but when he 
f was a man he would not 

let a day go by without 
taking a bath. He told 
his students over and 
over that people would 
excuse them for being 
poor, but not for being 
■ dirty. He said, ‘You can 
not stay in my school if 
you do not take a bath and use your tooth 
brush every day.’ ” 

“Mother and I were talking of Mr. 


1 


( 46 ) 



Washing- 
ton this after¬ 
noon. He must 
have been a 
fine man. I 
want to learn 
more about 


him,” said John Henry. 

Mrs. Jackson was in the kitchen. John 
Henry called to her, “Mother, I will set the 
table for you if you will tell me more about 
Mr. Booker T. Washington.” 

His mother answered, “When Booker T. 
Washington was your age, he had no table to 
set. He lived in a little log cabin on a large 
farm. There was only one room in his house. 
The floor was of dirt. The one little window 
had no glass in it. There was one broken 
door, and one cat-hole. His mother had no 

( 47 ) 


stove, no dishes, no knives and forks. She 
had a few tin pans and cups. She cooked over 
an open fireplace. 

“Of course the family did not sit down 
to eat together as we do. They were too busy. 
Little Booker was given some corn bread and 
perhaps a piece of fat meat when his mother 
could find time to get it for him. Later in the 
day he might get a cup of milk. At another 
time he ate a potato if one could be found. 

“He sat on the floor and ate from the 
pan or pot. He picked up the food with his 
fingers. 

“On Sunday morning his mother always 
brought down a little molasses from the ‘big 
house.’ What a treat! Booker would get his 
little tin plate. He would sit very still with 
his eyes closed while his mother poured the 
molasses into his plate.” 


( 48 ) 


“Why did he close 
his eyes, Mother?” 
asked John Henry. 

“It was a game he 
played with himself. 

When he opened his 
eyes he always tried to make himself think 
he was surprised to see how much he had! It 
was never more than two spoonfuls; but he 
would tip his plate this way and that way to 
make it spread all over. He thought he had 
more molasses, and that it lasted longer, 
when he spread it all over the plate. Molasses 
tasted better than anything else in the world. 
How he did wish that every day could be Sun¬ 
day. 

“As soon as he was large enough, Book¬ 
er always went at meal times to the ‘big’ 
house’ to fan the flies from the table while 



( 49 ) 



the white folks ate. There he saw the clean 
white tablecloth and the pretty dishes. He 
watched his masters lift the food to their 
mouths with forks. Often he became so inter¬ 
ested in the way they ate that he forgot to 
fan the flies away. But at a word from the 
white folks, he would start the long paper- 


strip fans moving back and forth over the 
long table. 

“As Booker watched his white folks eat, 
he made a promise to himself: ‘I am going 
to learn to eat like that. I am sure the food 
must taste better. It makes my mouth water 
just to see the good things in those beautiful 
clean dishes. When I am a man, I will have 
a table and chairs. I will have pretty dishes 
and knives and forks.’ ’’ 

At this moment, Mr. Jackson came into 



the room. “I am almost hungry enough to 
eat dishes and knives and forks! ” he laughed. 
“How nice the table looks!” 

“You are just in time. Dinner is ready.” 
replied Mrs. Jackson with a happy smile. 
“John Henry set the table and made it look 
pretty. He has been a very helpful boy to¬ 
day.” 

While they were eating, John Henry 
asked, “Did Mr. Washington keep the 
promise he made to himself? Did he learn 
table manners?” 

“Of course he did,” answered Mr. Jack- 
son. “He was one of the cleanest and most 
polite men in the world. More than that, he 
helped other people to learn good manners. 
He was careful to teach the boys and girls 
in his school how to act at the table.” 

“Just think!” added Mrs. Jackson. 


(52) 


“This man who ate from pots and pans when 
he was little, had tea with a queen when he 
was a man. Did you know that Booker T. 
Washington had tea with Queen Victoria of 
England?” 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Jackson. “And this 
boy who had no table at which to sit—this 
boy who did not know what it meant to eat 
with even his own family—when he became 
a man, was invited to have dinner with the 
President of the United States. 

“How glad he must have been that he 
had learned good table manners!” said John 
Henry. “I would want to be polite if I were 
eating with the President of the United 
States.” 


HELPERS FOR YOU 


1. The “big house” was the home of the 
white master who owned the plantation. 

2. A plantation is a big, big farm. 

3. A “cat-hole” was a small opening 
about seven inches square. It was cut in the 
lower right-hand corner of the cabin. Almost 
every house had a cat-hole. It was made to 
let the cat go in and out at night without 
having some one open the door for her. 

4. How large is a seven-inch square? 

(a) With your ruler measure seven 
inches up from the lower right-hand corner 
of a sheet of paper. Make a dot on the edge 
of your paper beside the figure seven. 

Write, “First Mark.” 

(b) Measure seven inches across from 
the lower right-hand corner. Make a dot on 


( 54 ) 


the edge of your paper beside the figure 
seven. 

Write “Second Mark.” 

(c) Measure seven inches up from the 
“Second Mark.” 

Write “Third Mark.” 

(d) Draw a straight line from “First 
Mark” to “Third Mark.” 

(e) Draw a straight line from “Second 
Mark” to “Third Mark.” 

(f) Cut along the lines you have 
drawn. 

Is your “cat-hole” large enough for a 
cat to go through? 


(••«>) 


BOOKER T. WASHINGTON 




The College Examination 

On the way to school the second day 
John Henry saw Harold. “Good-morning, 
Harold!” he called. 

Harold waved at him and cried, “Wait 
for me, John Henry!” 

“Did you get all the books on your list?” 



asked Harold. 

“Oh, yes,” replied John Henry. “I have 
never had so many books before. I did not 
think I could find time to go to bed last night 
because I wanted to look at them.” 

“My books are all new but the speller,” 
said Harold. “I have to use my sister’s old 
speller.” 

“That makes me think of a story Mother 
told me about Booker T. Washington’s first 
book,” John Henry said. “It was an old blue- 
back speller.” 

“Booker T. Washington!” cried Harold. 
“Why that is the name of our school!” 

“Yes,” agreed John Henry, “and it is the 
name of a great man. I think I shall like to 
go to a school that is called Booker T. Wash¬ 
ington.” 

Mrs. Johnson was in the room when the 


( 58 ) 


boys arrived. She spoke to them with a smile 
and helped them find a place for their books. 
She had put curtains at the windows. There 
was a vase of flowers on her desk. The room 
looked pretty. 

“Are all the rooms in this school as pret¬ 
ty as ours?” asked John Henry, as he and 
Harold went out to play. 

“We keep every part of our school as 
clean as we can,” answered Harold. “We try 
to live up to Booker T. Washington’s college 
examination.” 

“What do you mean by that? What is 
Booker T. Washington’s college examina¬ 
tion?” 

“It is a long story,” began Harold. “Of 
course you know that Mr. Washington was 
a poor boy. He worked hard all of his life, 
but the money he earned helped feed his fam- 


ily. He taught himself to read. Later he went 
to a little grade school. He heard of a college 
called Hampton. It was many miles away. 
He had no money, but he made up his mind 
to go to Hampton. By working harder than 
ever before, and saving as much as he could, 
he soon had a little money. 

“With a happy heart he started on his 
way. Long before he reached Hampton, his 
money was all gone. He had nothing to eat 
and no place to sleep. Do you suppose he 
gave up? Indeed not! He did small jobs and 
earned something to eat. He slept under the 



high board sidewalks. 

“When at last he arrived at Hampton, 
he was not a very clean young man. He could 
not explain that there are no bath tubs under 
sidewalks, nor that the sheets there are made 
of dirt. He did not want to say that he had 
come to college without a cent of money. 

“When the head teacher saw him stand¬ 
ing among the clean young people who had 
come to Hampton to go to school, she thought 
he looked more like a tramp than a student. 
She talked with the others and gave them 
cards, but she did not seem to want Booker 
T. Washington at Hampton College. 

“He would not go away. He did not tell 
her how he had worked and saved and gone 
hungry. He did not tell her how he had 
dreamed of coming to Hampton. But he did 


( 61 ) 


try to make her understand that he would 
study and learn if she would only give him 
a chance. 

“At last she said to him, ‘The room 
across the hall needs sweeping. Take this 
broom and sweep it!’ 

“Booker knew that this was his chance. 
He swept the room carefully three times. He 
moved every piece of furniture and swept un¬ 
der it. He cleaned every corner and every 
shelf. Then he took a cloth and dusted four 
times. He dusted all the woodwork, every 
bench, every table, every desk, and every 
shelf again, again, and again. 

“When he knew that the room was as 
clean as it could be, he called the head teach¬ 
er. 

“She looked at the floor. It was clean. 

She looked on the shelves, and in the corners. 

( 62 ) 


They were clean. She moved the desks and 
looked under them. She could find no dirt. 
Then she took her clean white handkerchief 
and rubbed it on the woodwork and about 
the walls. She rubbed it over the table and 
the benches. She could not find any dirt in 
the room! 

“As Mr. Washington watched her, he 
felt that sweeping and dusting the room had 
been his college examination. If she could 
not find any dirt, he knew that he would pass 

( 63 ) 


the examination. If she found even one small 
bit of dirt, he knew that he would fail. 

“When she turned to him and told him 
that he could come to Hampton, he was one 
of the happiest people in the world.” 

“Thank you for the story,” said John 
Henry. “I am proud to be in a school like this. 
I shall try to live up to Booker T. Washing¬ 
ton’s college examination.” 

CAN YOU TELL? 

1. If it took Booker T. Washington 
twenty minutes to sweep the room each time, 
how long did it take him to sweep it three 
times? 

2. If it took him twenty minutes to dust 
the first time; ten minutes, the second; five 
minutes, the third; and five minutes, the 


( 64 ) 


fourth time, how long did it take him to dust 
the room? 

3. How long did it take him to sweep 
and dust the room? 

How many minutes? 

How many hours and minutes? 


(65) 


A Good Citizen 


“Zi-i-i-ing!” called the bell. 

“Oh, good!” cried the boys and girls. “It 
is time to go inside.” 

When they were in the room, Mrs. John¬ 
son said, “Betty, will you stand in front of the 
class and hold the flag?” 

Betty held the flag high so that all the 
boys and girls could see it. They gave the 
salute and said: 

“I pledge allegiance to the 
flag of the United States of 
America and to the Republic 
for which it stands; one nation, 
indivisible, with liberty and 
justice for all.” 

Then they sang, “My Country ’Tis of 


Thee” and said a short prayer. All the chil¬ 
dren seemed to know the prayer but John 
Henry. He listened quietly. He thought, “I 
can soon learn the prayer if I listen careful¬ 
ly.” 

When the boys and girls sat down, Mrs. 
Johnson said, “We need a color bearer to car¬ 
ry our flag. Every morning when the bell 
rings, the color bearer will carry the flag at 
the head of our line as we march into the 
room. This afternoon I want you to help me 
choose a color bearer for tomorrow. At the 
close of school each day, we shall choose our 
color bearer for the next day. It must be the 
one who has been the very best citizen in our 
room. How shall we decide who is a good 
citizen?” 

The boys and girls thought for a long 
time. At last Betty said, “A good citizen is 


(67) 


clean inside and out.” 

“A good citizen is kind and helpful. He 
does things for other people when he would 
like to be doing something for himself,” 
added Harold. 

“A good citizen takes care of his own 
books and clothes. He helps take care of 
things that belong to the school, also,” said 
Helen. 

“A good citizen tries to do his best at all 
times,” Betty Jean said. “He studies hard in 
school. He plays when it is time to play. He 
does his work at home the best he can.” 

John Henry said, “A good 
citizen is a kind winner and 
a cheerful loser. I know a boy 
who always shakes hands with 
the ball team after a game. If 
his team has lost he tells the 



others, ‘You played better ball than we did, 
but our team will try hard to win the next 
game.’ ” 

“A good citizen is truthful and honest,” 
added Helen. 

Mrs. Johnson was pleased. She said, “I 
am sure you are all good citizens. It would 
be a fine plan to make a Good Citizenship 
Chart for our room, so that our parents and 
visitors may see it. I have written what you 
told us. I shall print it on a large chart. We 
can hang the chart where it will be easy to 
see.” 

“I like the plan,” said Helen. 

“Thank you, Helen,” answered Mrs. 
Johnson. “There is something else I should 
like to print on the chart. It is something 
that Booker T. Washington said.” 

“Oh, yes,” replied the children. “Tell us 


what you want to put on our Good Citizen¬ 
ship Chart.” 

Mrs. Johnson smiled as she said, “This 
is what I want to put on it: 

‘Great men cultivate love; 
only little men let themselves 
hate. I will permit no man, no 
matter what his color may be, 
to make me hate him!’ ” 

IS THIS RIGHT OR WRONG? 

1. The children were glad when it was 
time to go into their room. 

2. John Henry held the flag. 

3. A girl or a woman should stand with 
her hand over her heart when she salutes the 
flag. 

4. A soldier touches the edge of his hat 
when he salutes the flag. 

( 70 ) 


5. Boys and men should take off their 
hats when the flag passes by. 

6. The flag should never touch the 
ground. 

7. A good citizen loves his flag. 

8. Mrs. Johnson thought her children 
were good citizens. 


( 71 ) 


John Henry’s Surprise 

The boys and girls in Mrs. Johnson’s 
room could scarcely believe their ears when 
they heard the bell ring. “Can it be recess?” 
they said. 

As they put their books away for recess, 
John Henry remembered what Mrs. Johnson 
had told them about helping her choose a 
good citizen. He had been so busy all morn¬ 
ing that he had not noticed the other boys 
and girls. “If I am going to help choose a 
color bearer, I must keep my eyes open,” he 
thought. 

He marched out quietly. Harold whis¬ 
pered to him on the way out, “Hurry! Let us 
get the see-saws before any one else does!” 

But when they reached the see-saws, two 

(. 72 ) 




boys and two girls were on them. There was 
no room for more children. One boy shouted 
at them, “We were here first! First come, 
first served! We are going to keep the see¬ 
saws the whole recess, so there!” 

John Henry did not want to quarrel over 
the see-saws. He walked around to the other 
side of the school house. 

“I am glad I came this way,” he thought 




when he saw the flower bed beside the house. 
“These must have been planted last spring 
before school was out.” 

The plants were loaded with buds. Right 
in the middle of one bed was a beautiful blue 
daisy. As John Henry stood thinking how T 
pretty the flower looked, Betty came around 
the corner of the school house. 

“Look, Betty! ” he called. “What a pret¬ 
ty blue daisy.” 

“Oh, goody!” she cried. Then she looked 



both directions. She went 
on tip-toe to the east cor¬ 
ner and looked north. No 
one was coming. She went 
on tip-toe to the west cor¬ 
ner and looked north. No 
one was coming. “Sh!” 
she whispered. “Do you 


know what I am going to do? I am going to 
take that flower to Mrs. Johnson.” 

John Henry did not know what to do. 
He knew Betty had no right to pull the pretty 
blue daisy. He stood still for a minute to 
think. Then he said, “Please do not take the 
flower, Betty.” 

“I will take it,” said Betty. “Every one 
else takes Mrs. Johnson flowers. I never have 
any at home. She will like this one.” 

John Henry said, “You must not take the 
flower, Betty. It belongs to the whole school. 
You have no more right to take that flower 
than you have to take a desk or even our 
flag.” 

“I helped plant these flowers,” Betty re¬ 
plied. “No one knows the daisy is here. .Iwill 
take it. If any one finds out where it came 
from, I shall know you are a tattle-tale.” 

( 75 ) 


John Henry did not want to be called a 
tattle-tale. But he knew it would not be right 
for Betty to take the flower. He looked at her 
a long time. Then once again he said, 
“Please, Betty, do not take the daisy,” and 
he turned away. 

Because he was troubled about the blue 
daisy, John Henry walked slowly along the 
sidewalk. He was thinking, “What shall I 




do? If Betty takes the flower, shall I tell Mrs. 
Johnson where she got it? Oh, I do hope she 
will not take it!” 

All at once he noticed that he was fol¬ 
lowing an ugly white mark that ran along 
the sidewalk. He stopped in great surprise. 

“Do the children at this school write on 
the sidewalks?” he said to himself. “I won¬ 
der who can have such bad manners? I will 




ask Mrs. Johnson for a wet cloth so that I can 
wash off the marks.” 

Mrs. Johnson gave him the cloth. She 
did not ask him why he wanted it. John 
Henry was glad she did not ask, because he 
did not want to tell her about the ugly marks. 

“How disgraced Booker T. Washington 
would feel if he could see this walk!” thought 
John Henry as he worked away trying to 
make the sidewalk clean. “If I can find out 
who made these marks, I will tell him about 
Mr. Washington’s college examination. No 
one would make the walks look ugly if he 
knew about that story.” 

John Henry was so ashamed of the 
marks on the walk that he was glad no one 
else had seen them. Most of all, he was glad 
Mrs. Johnson had not seen them. He said to 
himself, “I will hurry as fast as I can.” 

( 78 ) 





He washed off the marks as quickly and 
as carefully as he could. He put the wet cloth 
in the trash can to be burned. Just then the 
bell rang and he went into the house with the 
other boys and girls. 

John Henry could not help looking at 
the vase of flowers on Mrs. Johnson’s desk. 
No blue daisy was there! He looked all 

( 79 ) 







around the room. He could not find the blue 
daisy. He looked at Betty and found her 
watching him. She smiled at him as if to say, 
“I did not take the flower, after all.” John 
Henry was happy. 

During the language lesson, the girls 
and boys talked of how to be polite: They de¬ 
cided to practice saying “Excuse me” when 
they walked in front of people. 

Horace seemed to take great pride in 
this good-manners practice. He said “Ex¬ 
cuse me” to almost every one in the room. 

( 80 ) 



He went around the room, walking in front 
of people all afternoon, just to practice. But 
when he passed in front of Helen, he did not 
say any thing. 

Mrs. Johnson noticed that he did not say 
“Excuse me” to Helen. She said, “Horace, 
did you forget to ask Helen to excuse you 
when you walked in front of her?” 

“No, Mrs. Johnson,” he replied. “Don’t 
you know Helen is my sister? I do not need 
to say ‘excuse me’ to her.” 

“Why should you not ask your sister to 
excuse you?” asked Mrs. Johnson. 

“I thought that was just company man¬ 
ners,” answered Horace. “I don’t use com¬ 
pany manners with my own family.” 

Mrs. Johnson explained that boys and 

girls should be polite to their sisters and 

brothers as well as to other people. She said, 
( 81 ) 


“Sometimes we are not as polite to our own 
family as we are to strangers. We should 
always have good manners, but we should be 
most polite to those we love best.” 

Late in the afternoon John Henry had 
almost decided to vote for Betty to be color 
bearer. He had noticed that she worked hard 
all day. She was pleasant and kind to the 
other girls and boys. She was clean. When 
she made a mistake in arithmetic, she 
thanked Mrs. Johnson for telling her about 
it. When she learned that Mary did not have 
a speller Betty said, “You may use my book.” 

“Yes,” thought John Henry, “I believe 
Betty should be our color bearer.” 

He looked at her. She was trying to 
write a story. What she had written did not 
please her. She tore the page from her tablet 

and threw it toward the waste-paper basket. 

( 82 ) 


It hit the edge of the basket and fell to the 
floor. Betty did not seem to see it. She wrote 
another page. It did not please her any bet¬ 
ter. She tore it off and threw it toward the 
basket. It, too, fell on the floor. 

Without a word, John Henry walked 
quietly to the waste-paper basket and picked 
up the paper. He put it in the basket and 
was almost back in his seat. He hoped no one 
had seen him. But Mrs. Johnson said, “Whose 
paper was that beside the basket?” 

Betty answered, “It was mine, Mrs. 
Johnson. I knew the man who cleans the 
room had not yet carried out the paper. I 
thought it would be all right to let it stay on 
the floor since school is so near over for the 
day. The man sweeps every day after we 
have gone home.” 

Mrs. Johnson told Betty that she would 


(S3) 


talk with her about the paper another time. 
“The bell will ring in just a minute,” said the 
teacher. “We must choose our color bearer 
now.” 

Harold stood beside his desk and said, 
“Mrs. Johnson, I think John Henry should 
be our color bearer tomorrow.” 

“Remember that we must have our best 
citizen for color bearer,” answered Mrs. 
Johnson. 

Then Harold told about the see-saws. He 
explained that John Henry would not quarrel. 




Betty told the class about the blue daisy. 
Mrs. Johnson told about the marks on the 
sidewalk, for she had watched John Henry 
wash them off. Others told of fine thing's 
John Henry had done that day. When the 
vote was taken, every one wanted him for 
color bearer. 

John Henry was so surprised! He had 
not dreamed that they would choose him. He 
said, “I thank you. I shall try to be a good 
color bearer.” 

When school was out he hurried home 
to tell his mother all about it. 


(85) 















WHAT DO YOU THINK? 

1. Was it right for the children to keep 
the see-saws? They were there first. 

2. Betty had helped plant the flowers. 
Did she have a right to pick the daisy? Would 
you have taken it? Why? 

3. Why do some children write on side¬ 
walks? 

4. What can your class do about marks 
on walks and walls? 

5. Why should we be polite at home? 
Are you more polite to your school friends or 
to your family? Why? 

6. How was Betty a good citizen? How 
was she not a good citizen? 

7. Why would it not be all right to leave 
the paper for the man to pick up? 

8. Name all the ways in which John 
Henry showed himself to be a good citizen. 

( 87 ) 


Color Bearers 

“I am very proud of 
you,” said Mrs. Jackson. 

John Henry had just 
told her that he had been 
chosen color bearer. She 
added, “A mother always 
likes to know that her boy 
is a good citizen. It 
makes me happy to learn that you were sur¬ 
prised. I should not want you to be good just 
to win something.” 

“Thank you, Mother,” replied John 
Henry. “I shall try to remember that. I be¬ 
lieve that helping other people makes me 
happier than winning does. I guess Mr. 
Booker T. Washington was right when he 
said that the happiest people are those who 



( 88 ) 


help others to be useful and happy.” 

John Henry was going to tell his mother 
what Horace had said about being polite to 
his sister; but all at once, he stopped! 

That strange, soft, far-away look in her 
eyes meant that she was thinking of an in¬ 
teresting story. He loved to hear her stories; 
so he sat very still and waited. 

At last she turned to him and said, “I 
was thinking of another color bearer who 
lived many years ago. 

He knew how to carry 
the flag.” 

“Tell me about him, 
please. Did the boys and 
girls choose him for 
their color bearer?” 
asked John Henry. 

“No,” answered 



X 

Mrs. Jackson. “He won the 
right to carry the flag by being 
H brave and loyal. There was a 

terrible war. White men 
H fought against white men. 

H Some of them thought Negroes 

H were not brave enough to fight. 

Others were sure that Negroes 
would make good soldiers. At last they de¬ 
cided to let the Negroes try to help. A regi¬ 
ment was formed. It was called the 54th of 
Massachusetts. A young white man named 
Robert Gould Shaw led the regiment. In his 
regiment there were many fine young men. 
Among them were two sons of Frederick 
Douglass. You remember Frederick Doug¬ 
lass, do you not?” 

“Oh, yes!” said John Henry. “He is the 
man who bought himself from the ship- 

( 90 ) 


builder. He is the one who printed the first 
newspaper for colored people.” 

“He helped his people in many other 
ways, also. He made friends with the white 
people as well as with his own race. They 
liked to talk with him. They would travel a 
long way to hear him make a talk,” added 
Mrs. Jackson. 

“Was one of his sons the color bearer?” 
asked John Henry. 

Mrs. Jackson sat for a minute with her 
chin in her hand before she answered, “The 
man I am going to tell you about was not 
Frederick Douglass’ son. He was only a plain 
black man, who did not talk much. He joined 
the 54th because he wanted to help his coun¬ 
try. His name was William H. Carney. 

“The army wanted to take a place called 
Fort Wagner. One dark rainy night in the 

( 91 ) 


year of 1863, they started to Fort Wagner. 
For two days and nights they marched 
through mud and rain. At last they came 
close enough that the enemy’s guns reached 
them. 

“The 54th, led by their brave Colonel 
Shaw, went at the head of the army. On and 
on they marched, nearer and nearer the ene¬ 
my’s guns. Many of them were killed. Even 
Colonel Shaw was killed. Those who were 
alive went ahead, into the mouths of those 
terrible guns. 

“The man who carried the flag for the 
regiment was shot. William H. Carney saw 
him falling. He ran to the man and, before 
the flag could touch the ground, he took it in 
his own hands and lifted it high. 

“When the battle was over, Private Car¬ 
ney was carried from the field to the doctor. 

(92) 


The guns had found their way to him, too. 

“But he was a real color bearer. He had 
kept the colors high. As he was being car¬ 
ried from the field of battle he said, ‘Boys, 
the old flag never touched the ground!’ 

“In the year 1897, the people of Massa¬ 
chusetts put up a beautiful monument to Col¬ 
onel Robert Gould Shaw. They wanted the 
world to know that they were proud of these 
men who fought so bravely for their country. 
Mr. Booker T. Washington went to a great 
meeting in Boston to talk to them about 
Colonel Shaw and the monument. 

“The Shaw monument is one of the most 
beautiful in our country. It was made by 
Saint-Gaudens (Gaw'denz), who is often 
called America’s greatest sculptor. 

“Many prominent people came to hear 
Mr. Washington. The mayor of Boston and 

(93) 



THE SHAW MONUMENT, ON BOSTON COMMON 


















the governor of Massachusetts sat on the 
platform. William H. Carney sat on the plat¬ 
form, also; and what do you think he held in 
his hands? It was the same flag that he had 
carried so proudly and so carefully in the 
year 1863! 

“Bands played; people clapped and 
cheered; some of them even threw their hats 
in the air when this plain black man stood up 
with the flag he loved so well! He was not a 
young man any more, but he still knew how 



to be a good color bearer.” 

John Henry was quiet a long time after 
the story was finished. Then he said, “I shall 
think of that story tomorrow when I carry 
the flag.” 


WHAT DO YOU THINK? 

1. What is the most interesting thing 
you know about Frederick Douglass? 

2. Underline two words that best de¬ 
scribe William H. Carney: 

polite selfish foolish brave loyal 

3. Why was Mrs. Jackson glad that 
John Henry was surprised at being chosen 
color bearer? 

4. How did John Henry know his moth¬ 
er was going to tell him a story? 

5. Where can you learn more about 
Colonel Robert Gould Shaw? 


( 96 ) 


6. How old was the flag Mr. Carney 
held as he sat on the platform in 1897? 

7. How do you think Mr. Carney felt 
as he heard Mr. Washington talk about Col¬ 
onel Shaw and the monument? 

8. If you were having trouble with 
some one, which of the following would you 
do? 

(a) fight 

(b) run away 

(c) try to settle the trouble without 
fighting 

9. What are some ways to settle a quar¬ 
rel without fighting? 

10. How does fighting settle a quarrel? 

11. Why do people often quarrel again 
after they have fought? 

12. When do you think it is right to 
fight? 


( 07 ) 


Color Bearers For The Race 

“Hello!” said a voice on the other side of 
the door. “What did I hear you say about 
carrying the flag tomorrow?” 

The door opened wide. Mr. Jackson had 
come home. 

“John Henry has been chosen color 
bearer at school,” explained Mrs. Jackson. 

“Fine!” his father replied. “How did it 
happen?” 

John Henry told his father all about the 
day at school. “But I wish I could be a real 
color bearer like William H. Carney. Just 
carrying the flag at school seems so little 
when I think of what he did.” 

“Mr. Carney was a brave man,” an¬ 
swered Mr. Jackson. “But you can be a real 


( 98 ) 




color bearer without going to war. Mr. Car¬ 
ney helped to prove that our people are not 
afraid to face guns. Now we are fighting a 
different kind of battle. In this battle we do 
not use guns. We do not kill.” 

John Henry did not understand. “How 
can we fight a battle without guns?” he 
asked. 

“This is a battle for friends. We do not 
need guns because we do not want to hurt our 
friends. It is a battle for the chance to do the 


( 99 ) 


kind of work we like to do. It is a battle for 
clean homes and good streets. It is a battle 
for happiness,” Mr. Jackson said. 

“Oh!” replied John Henry. “It is like 
Booker T. Washington’s chance to go to 
Hampton. He just stayed there until the 
head teacher let him show what he could do. 
He did not go away when he saw she did not 
want him. He did not become angry. He just 
waited and thought what he would do when 
his time came. That was a friendly battle for 
a chance to go to school.” 

Mr. Jackson smiled, “You are beginning 
to understand. No one was hurt in that bat¬ 
tle. The best battles are those in which no 
one is hurt. The best color bearer is the one 
who leads his army to peace instead of to war. 
He is the one who leads them to a place where 
they can live and be happy instead of into a 


place where they will be hurt or killed. Our 
race is in need of such color bearers. As a 
race color bearer you can serve your own 
people and your country also.” 

“How can I do that?” asked John Henry. 

“Let us think what a good color bearer 
does,” said Mr. Jackson. 

“He stands at the head of the line, or 
marches in front of the army,” replied John 
Henry. “He holds the colors high. He never 
lets the flag touch the ground.” 

“Why does he go at the head of the 
line?” asked Mr. Jackson. 

“I suppose it is because he knows where 
the army should go. A good leader shows 
the way so that others can follow,” said John 
Henry. 

“Can you imagine a leader at the back 

of the line? Why the others would all be 
( 101 ) 


marching backward!” said Mr. Jackson. 

John Henry laughed. “That would look 
funny! I think they would go to the wrong 
place.” 

“That is true,” said Mr. Jackson. “It is 
true of our race, also. We need leaders to go 
ahead and show us the way so that we will not 
go marching backward. We need color bear¬ 
ers who will lead us toward better schools, 
better homes, better working conditions, and 
greater friendship with the white race.” 

“I should like to march in that line; but 



it will take a brave man to lead it,” said John 
Henry. “A color bearer like that will need to 
know many things.” 

“Yes,” answered Mr. Jackson. “Only a 
very wise and good person can find the way.” 

“I think a good color bearer must be 
proud of his flag or he would not carry it so 
high,” said John Henry. “People along the 
way are proud, too. The other day I watched 
a Boy Scout parade. I heard a woman say, 
‘My boy’s troop is fourth in line.’ Another 
woman asked, ‘How can you tell which is his 
troop? I can’t see the boys at all.’ The first 
woman answered, ‘I know the banner his 
troop carries. See, there it comes! It is the 
blue and gold. How pretty it is! ’ It was easy 
to see that the woman was proud of her boy’s 
troop.” 

Mr. Jackson said, “I think a good color 

(103) 


bearer must be proud of his race, also. He 
must know its fine men and women. He must 
understand the beauty of its art and music. 
He must learn of its plans and want to help 
in the brave and good work it is trying to do. 
Booker T. Washington said: 

‘“I do not envy the white boy. When I 
was small I did. Since I have grown older I 
see that the Negro must work harder and 
must do his work better because he is a Ne¬ 
gro. This gives him strength and confidence 
when he does something better than any one 
else can do it. I had rather be what I am, a 
member of the Negro race.’ ” 

John Henry sat thinking for a long time. 
At last he said, “I believe I am beginning to 
see what you mean. It will not be easy, but 
I want to try to be a good race color bearer.” 

“Then let us talk a little about the third 


( 104 ) 


point,” said his father. “You remember we 
said a good color bearer never lets the flag 
touch the ground. Why do you think he is so 
careful?” 

“Oh, I understand that! The flag would 
not be clean if it touched the ground. We do 
not want a dirty flag!” replied John Henry. 

“That is right,” said Mr. Jackson. “We 
must not let anything soil our flag. As a race 
color bearer, you must be 
just as careful not to do 
anything that might bring 
shame or disgrace upon 
your people. If you grow 
up to be a fine leader for 
your race, you must keep 
your whole life clean and 
good. Then you will not 
only be a fine race color 




bearer, but you will be a good American citi¬ 
zen, too!” 

“Thank you, Father; I shall do my best,” 
replied John Henry. “If I am not good 
enough to be the color bearer, I shall at least, 
be a loyal follower.” 

Mr. Jackson said, “Our race needs loyal 
followers. We can not all be leaders. Often 
the very best leaders fail because their fol¬ 
lowers are not brave and loyal. If you be¬ 
come a leader or a follower, try to remember 
what Booker T. Washington told his stu¬ 
dents: 

‘The person who puts the 
most into life is the one who 
gets the most out of life.’” 

Mr. Jackson stood straight and saluted. 
Then he shook hands with John Henry and 
said: 


( 106 ) 




























“Forward, march! Good luck, Mr. Color 
Bearer!” 


SOMETHING TO DO 

1. Name two people you know, who are 
good color bearers for the race. 

2. Tell why each one is a good leader. 

3. Underline the words that best de¬ 
scribe a good color bearer: 


kind 

strong 

wise 

slow 

brave 

selfish 

pretty 

useful 

loyal 

lazy 




4. What kind of color bearer is Mr. 
Jackson? 

5. Do you think Mrs. Jackson is a good 
color bearer? Why do you think so? 


( 108 ) 


6. How can John Henry make himself 
a good color bearer? 

7. Tell three reasons why you are 
proud of your race. 

8. Name some good followers. 

9. Why must we have good followers? 


( 109 ) 


Planning A Library 


The third grade liked to hear Mrs. John¬ 
son read. They brought their story books 
from home and asked her to read them to the 
class. Soon there were more books than the 






desk would hold. 

“We need some shelves,” said Mrs. 
Johnson. 

“I know how to build shelves,” replied 
John Henry. “We made shelves for a library 
at my other school.” 

“How did you make them?” asked the 
girls and boys. 

“First, we measured to see how high we 
wanted to build the shelves,” explained John 
Henry. “Then we measured to see how long 
to make them. We decided to make them 
four feet high and three feet long. We 
wanted three shelves and a top. 

“Next, we went to the lumber yard and 
asked the lumberman to saw the boards for 
us. We said, Tt will take two boards, four 
feet long; and four boards, three feet long.’ ” 

“That sounds like a riddle,” laughed 
an) 


Horace. “Four boards, two feet long; and 
four boards, three feet long?” 

“No!” said John Henry. “I said ‘Two 
boards, four feet long; and four boards, 
three feet long.’ ” 

“I can’t see the difference,” Horace said. 

“I will explain it to you later,” Mrs. 
Johnson said. “Tell us more about how you 
made your shelves, John Henry.” 

“The man at the lumber yard asked us 
what kind of boards we wanted,” John Henry 







said. “We had not thought of that; but our 
teacher told him that we wanted ‘one by 
twelve’ boards. 

“The man measured carefully. He 
sawed the boards straight. We took them to 
school and almost in no time, we had nailed 
them together. They made fine shelves. We 
painted them white. After they had been 
painted two days, the paint was dry. We put 
our books on the shelves. Then we had a real 
library. It looked very pretty.” 

Mrs. Johnson was pleased. She said, 
“That is a good idea, John Henry. You have 
explained it well. But we have no money to 
pay the lumberman for the boards. I won¬ 
der how we could make enough money to pay 
for our shelves.” 

“We can have a play, and ask those who 


( 113 ) 



come to pay ten cents,” said Harold. “People 
like to see plays.” 

“We can make candy at home and sell 
it at school,” said Betty. 

“I would rather make pop corn balls,” 
said Mary. 

“What helpful children I have!” cried 
Mrs. Johnson. “Those are all fine plans. Let 
us see which the class likes best. All who 
want to have a play will please stand.” 

Eleven boys and girls stood. 

“All who want to make and sell pop corn 
balls will please stand.” 

( 114 ) 


Eleven boys and girls stood. 

“All who want to make and sell candy 
will please stand.” 

Eleven boys and girls stood. 

The children laughed. “A tie! A tie!” 
they cried. 

Mrs. Johnson smiled and told them that 
they could vote again. This time every one 
counted carefully to see that there was no 
mistake. There were eleven votes for the 
play, eleven for the candy, and eleven for 
the pop corn balls. 

“What shall we do?” asked Mrs. John¬ 
son. 

John Henry suggested, “Let us vote 
once again. If it is still a tie, let us do all 
three plans. Each one will help with the 
plan he votes for.” 

“Oh, fine!” laughed the children. 

( 115 ) 


They voted again. There were eleven 
votes for each plan. 

“Very well,” Mrs. Johnson said, “Let 
me think. Today is Thursday. You may 
make the pop corn balls next Wednesday 
and sell them on Thursday. That will be 
September the 26th. You may sell the candy 
on Thursday of the week after that. It will 
be October the 3rd. You may have the play 
the following Thursday night, October the 
10th. That will give you time to choose a 
good play and to learn your parts well. 

“On Friday, October the 11th, each 
group will report how much money it has. 
Until that time, it will be fun to keep the 
amount a secret. No group will tell any one 
how much it has until time for the reports. 
The group that makes the most money may 


( 116 ) 


■MHflfMJi 



go to the lumber yard to buy the lumber.” 

The children laughed and clapped 
their hands. “Secrets are fun! We will not 
tell! We must begin to get ready today!” 
they said. 

“I shall make a poster,” said Betty. 

“I shall write letters to my friends in 
the other rooms, and tell them about the 
pop corn balls,” said Helen. 

“I shall tell every one I see,” said 
Horace. 

Just then the bell rang. It was time to 







go home. After they had gone outside, Mrs. 
Johnson heard the children talking about 
their plans. 

“Hurrah for the pop corn balls!” cried 
Mary. 

“Hurrah for the candy!” said Betty. 

“Hurrah for the play!” cried Harold. 

“Hurrah for the library!” they all 
shouted. 


DO YOU KNOW? 

1. How many children were in Mrs. 
Johnson’s room? Each child voted for only 
one plan. 

2. Which plan would you have voted 
for? Why would you vote that way? 

3. What kind of stories do you like 
to hear your teacher read? 


( 118 ) 


DO THIS 

1. Make a poster to show the plan 
you like best: 

the play, the candy, the pop corn 

2. Find how many feet of boards it 
took for John Henry’s library. 

3. If the lumber cost ten cents a foot, 
how much did it cost to build the shelves? 


( 119 ) 


Making Pop Corn Balls 

It was Wednesday, September 26th. 
After school, eleven girls and boys went 
with Mrs. Johnson to the cooking room. 
Some of them had brought pop corn; some 
had brought sugar; some had brought rolls 
of waxed paper; and one had brought a can 
of corn syrup. 

Eleven neat packages lay on the table. 
Each package had a name on it. 

“What shall we do first?” asked Mary. 

“Can’t you guess?” laughed Mrs. John¬ 
son. 

“Oh, I can guess!” cried one of the 
boys. “I remember the story about Zip. We 
must all wash our hands first of all.” 

“Right!” said Mrs. Johnson. “Then 
( 120 ) 


each one will open the package his mother 
sent me today.” 

“What is in the package?” asked 
Helen. “Mother would not tell me. She said 
it was another secret.” 

“Wash your hands and we will find 
out,” said Mary. 

When all hands were clean and dry, 
Mrs. Johnson said, “Find your package; 
then close your eyes while I count by fives 
to one hundred. When I say ‘one hundred’ 
you may open your package and put on what 
you find. The person who puts his on first 
will win the game.” 

Mrs. Johnson began to count, “Five, 
ten, fifteen, twenty.” It was hard to wait 
for her to say one hundred. At ninety-five, 
every one reached for his package. Each 

one broke the string and pulled out—what 

( 121 ) 


do you think? A clean, white cap and apron! 
In less time than it takes to say pop-corn- 
hall, Mary was all dressed in her cap and 
apron. 

“Mary was first! Mary won the game! ” 
shouted Horace. He was having trouble 
with his apron, and his cap was on back¬ 
ward, but he was happy. The other children 
laughed and helped him get ready to work. 

“The boys may take turns popping the 
corn,” said Mrs. Johnson. “Mary and Helen 
may cut the waxed paper into twelve-inch 
squares. The other girls may help me meas¬ 
ure and cook the syrup. We shall cook three 
pans of syrup. In each pan we shall put what 
this little book says: 

‘3 cups of sugar 1 cup of water 

y% cup of corn syrup.’ ” 

Each girl measured the sugar, the 


( 122 ) 



water, and the syrup. Each girl put these 
into a pan and stirred them well. Then 
each girl set her pan on the fire and 
watched it to keep it from running over 
or burning. 

“Let it cook until it makes a thread 
like a spider’s web when you drop it from 




the spoon/’ said Mrs. Johnson. 

What fun! Above the hum of the chil¬ 
dren’s voices could be heard the sounds 
of the pop corn balls coming 1 to life. Stir, 
stir, stir! Crack, crack, crack! Poppity- 
poppity-pop-pop! 

Soon there were three great bowls 
full of the crisp white corn. The syrup be¬ 
gan to make a thread like a spider’s web 
as it dropped from the spoon. Mrs. John¬ 
son poured the hot syrup over the crisp 
white corn. She stirred and mixed it un¬ 
til every grain was sweet. 

As soon as it was cool enough, the 
children shaped the corn into balls. They 
wrapped the balls in waxed paper to keep 
them fresh and clean. Every boy and every 
girl worked. 

When the clock struck six, fifty crisp, 

(124) 


sweet pop corn balls were wrapped and 
ready to be sold. How good they looked! 

While the children washed the pans 
and bowls, Mary said, “We shall sell the pop 
corn balls at five cents each. If we sell all 
of them, how much money will we make?” 

Horace spoke without taking time to 
think, “We should make about a dollar I 
guess!” 

“You should not GUESS, Horace,” said 
Helen. “Why don’t you add?” 

“I think I shall multiply,” said Mary. 
“If one pop corn ball costs five cents, fifty 
pop corn balls will cost fifty times five cents.” 

“Figure it out at home,” suggested Mrs. 
Johnson. “Your mothers will be worried 
about you if you stay here any longer. We 
will compare our figures in the morning and 
see who has solved the problem.” 

( 123 ) 



Pop corn balls! 

Pop corn balls! 

Who will buy my pop corn balls? 
Clean and neat! 

Crisp and sweet! 

Pop corn balls are good to eat! 


( 126 ) 







CAN YOU DO THIS? 


1. Find how much money the children 
will make if they sell all the pop corn balls 
at five cents each. Will you add or multiply? 

2. Ask your mother or your teacher to 
let you try to make some pop corn balls. 
Follow the directions given by Mrs. Johnson 
for making the syrup. 

3. Be sure to wash your hands be¬ 
fore you make the pop corn balls. 

4. Be sure to wash the pans and bowls 
when you are through. 

5. Measure and draw a twelve-inch 
square on the blackboard. 

6. Measure and draw a five-inch 
square. 

7. Measure and draw a seven-inch 


square. 


( 127 ) 


8. Which is largest? Which is small- 

V/ 

est? 


( 128 ) 


Good Reports 


It was Friday, October the eleventh. 
The children were eager to hear the reports. 
They wanted to find out how much money 
had been made. Keeping secrets had been 
tun! People always try to find out about 
secrets. Even the fathers and mothers be¬ 
came interested. A great many people came 
to the play. Now it was time to learn how 
much each group had made. 

“I wish the bell would ring,” said 
Horace. 

Mrs. Johnson looked happy as the boys 
and girls marched into the room. As soon 
as they were in their seats she said, “I know 
you want to hear the reports. We shall 
have them before we do anything else. 


( 129 ) 



First, let us hear from the pop corn group.” 

Mary went to the front of the room. She 
said, “We made two dollars and forty-five 
cents. We would have made five cents more, 
but one of the balls fell on the ground and 

(130) 





we did not sell it.” 

The boys and girls clapped for the pop 
corn report. 

“That is a good report, Mary,” said Mrs. 
Johnson. “Now, let us hear from the candy 
group.” 

Betty stood before the class. She told 
them that her group had made one dollar and 
ninety-five cents. 

The boys and girls clapped for the candy 
report. They knew that October the third 
had been a rainy day. Many students had 
not come to school that day. The children 
thought the candy group had done very well, 
indeed. 

Harold gave the report for the play 
group. He had a happy face as he said, “Our 
group made the most money, but we did not 

do it alone. You helped us make it by coming 

( 181 ) 


to our play and by bringing your parents and 
friends. We are glad to add five dollars to 
your money.” 

The children clapped and clapped. They 
clapped because of the five dollars. They 
clapped because Harold was such a good win¬ 
ner. 

Mrs. Johnson said, ‘‘Get your pencils 
and paper. We must find out how much 
money we have for our library.” 

For a few minutes there was not a sound 
in the room but the scratch, scratch of pen¬ 
cils. Then John Henry looked up from his 
paper and smiled at Mrs. Johnson. She 






walked near his desk and looked at his paper. 
She nodded at him. Soon several hands were 
in the air. When Mrs. Johnson came to Hor¬ 
ace’s desk she whispered in his ear, “You are 
guessing- again.” He wrote the numbers 
again and added once more. This time he 
was careful. Mrs. Johnson smiled and 
nodded. 

When all the boys and girls had found 
how much money they had, Betty asked, “Do 
we have enough to pay for the lumber?” 


( 133 ) 


“Oh, yes,” answered John Henry. “If I 
have figured right, we have more than 
enough.” 

“How did you find the cost of the lum¬ 
ber?” asked Horace. 

“I remembered what ours cost at the 
other school,” replied John Henry. 

“But I think we should make our shelves 
longer than three feet,” said Mary. “We have 
so many books. I have measured the place 
in the northwest corner of the room. It is 
large enough for shelves four feet long.” 

“We could make them higher, too,” said 
Helen. 

“If they are higher than four feet, some 
of us can not see the books easily,” said Har¬ 
old. 

“That is true,” replied Mrs. Johnson. “I 
believe Mary is right, also. If our shelves are 

(134) 


four feet long they will be just right for the 
northwest corner. I have measured it, too. 
Shall we find out how much it will cost to 
make our shelves four feet high and four feet 
long?” 

“That will be easy,” answered John 
Henry. “All the pieces will be the same 
length. There will be two boards that stand 
up. There will be four boards that go across. 
That makes six boards. Each board will be 
four feet long.” 

Horace spoke quickly, “I know the an¬ 
swer this time! If each board is four feet 
long, the six boards will be six times four 
feet, or twenty-four feet long.” 

“Good work, Horace!” said Mrs. John¬ 
son. “Now who knows what they will ask for 
one foot of lumber?” 

“Father said it would be about ten cents 


( 135 ) 


a foot,” answered Harold. 

“Find out how much our shelves will cost 
if the lumber is ten cents a foot,” said Mrs. 
Johnson. “It will not be more than ten cents, 
I am sure.” 

And because they wanted to know if 
they had enough money, every girl and every 
boy in the room tried his best to get the right 
answer to the problem. 

ANSWER YES OR NO 

1. The candy group made more than 
the pop corn group. 

2. The candy group made less than the 
play group. 

3. It will cost two dollars to make 
shelves four feet high and three feet long, 
at ten cents a foot. 


( 136 ) 


4. It will cost $2.45 to make shelves 
four feet high and four feet long, at ten cents 
a foot. 

5. The children made $9.35 for their 
library. 

6. It costs more to make candy than to 
make pop corn balls. 

7. John Henry has trouble with arith¬ 
metic. 

8. Horace always thinks before he 
speaks. 

9. Harold’s report was best. 

10. Mary’s group should go to the lum¬ 
ber yard. 


( 137 ) 


Extra Money 


Harold’s group went to the lumber yard 
at noon. Harold’s father took them in his 
truck. He said, “My truck is large enough 
for the children and the lumber, too.” So 
away they went. 

They were back at school before the bell 
rang. “Surprise! Surprise!” they cried. 

“When the lumberman found out what 
we are going to do with the lumber, he asked 
us only seven cents a foot for it!” 

“Let me think,” said John Henry. “It 
cost just one dollar and sixty-eight cents 
then.” 

“That is right,” answered Harold. “My, 
but you can do arithmetic quickly! Since we 
had some money left, we bought a can of 


(138) 



paint. It cost sixty 
cents. W e bought 
some nails for five 
cents. Our whole bill 
was only two dollars 
and thirty cents.” 

“That must leave 
us about five dollars,” 
guessed Horace. 

“Why do you al¬ 
ways guess? Why don’t you use a pencil and 
subtract, Horace?” said Helen. 

“I did not bring my pencil out here,” an¬ 
swered Horace. “I lose pencils so easily.” 

“Well, try to figure it in your head,” said 
Helen. “Did you see how quickly John Henry 
figured the cost of the lumber without a pen¬ 
cil or paper?” 

“Yes,” replied Horace. “But John Henry 

( 139 ) 


likes arithmetic and he can think fast. I do 
not care for arithmetic and I am not so fast. 
Now, let me think! What was the bill? I have 
forgotten. I just can’t remember figures. Oh, 
dear!” 

“Here is a stick,” said Helen. “Take it 
and write your figures on the ground.” 

Horace used the stick for a pencil. He 
worked carefully for a few minutes. “Oh, 
my!” he said. “We have more than five dol¬ 
lars left!” 

“I know what we can do,” cried Betty. 



“The boys can get 
some orange boxes and 
make chairs for the library 
corner. We will need some 
extra chairs. The girls can 
make covers for the chairs. 

We can get pretty cloth for 
fifteen or twenty cents a 
yard. It will make our library corner look 
bright and comfortable.” 

And that is what the children did! Be¬ 
fore Hallowe’en their library corner was the 
most cheerful looking place in the whole 
school. Every one liked to sit on the orange- 
box chairs with their gay covers. 

It was fun to find a book in the neatly 
kept shelves. The children liked to do their 
work quickly so that they could read a book 
from the library. 



( 141 ) 



One day a visitor came to school. He 
said, “You are really earning the right to call 
your school Booker T. Washington. When 
Mr. Washington began teaching at Tuske- 
gee, there was no fine school house. He 
taught in an old house. The roof had such 
holes in it that he had to hold an umbrella 
over himself when it rained. He lived in a 
house that was just as bad. Many times the 
woman who owned the house held an um¬ 
brella over him while he ate his breakfast. 

“But Mr. Washington did not stop work¬ 
ing. He had no money, so he and his friends 
worked hard to get enough to buy a better 
house. They had no furniture, so they learned 
to make their furniture. They had little to 
eat, so they plowed the ground and raised 
food for the whole school. 


( 142 ) 


“When more students came and they 
needed a new school house, they learned how 
to make bricks. They built their new houses 
of these bricks. 

“Mr. Washington started his school with 
thirty students. He saw the school grow un¬ 
til there were fourteen hundred students. He 
helped build many large and beautiful brick 
buildings. 

“He showed his students how to make 
the best of everything. He was always happy 
when he found a way to 
help some one. He made 
everything around him 
clean, comfortable, and 
beautiful. I am glad you 
are following his fine ex¬ 
ample.” 




SOMETHING TO DO 


1. If your school has a library, how can 
you make it better? 

2. If your school has no library, how 
can you help build one? 

3. What story books do you have at 
home? 

4. What kind of books do you like? 

5. How do you think Booker T. Wash¬ 
ington would build a library if he were in 
your room? 

6. How should you act in the library? 

7. Why should every room have a li¬ 
brary? 

8. Why does Horace have trouble with 
his arithmetic? 

9. Suggest a way for him to help him¬ 
self. 


( 144 ) 


Thanksgiving 

It was Tuesday, November the 25th. 
“Only two days until Thanksgiving!” said 
Mary. 

“We can’t have turkey this Thanksgiv¬ 
ing,” said John Henry. “When we lived on 
the farm we raised chickens and turkeys. 
There was always a big fat turkey for 
Thanksgiving. Mother says it costs too much 
money to buy a good turkey these days.” 

“Can you not enjoy Thanksgiving with¬ 
out a turkey?” asked Mrs. Johnson. 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Johnson,” he answered. 
“I have many reasons for feeling thankful. 
I have so much more than the Pilgrims had 
when they began the practice of giving 
thanks.” 


( 145 ) 


“That is a fine 
thought,” Mrs. 

Johnson said. “To¬ 
night, I wish each of you would try to think 
of all the reasons he has for feeling thank¬ 
ful. After you go to bed and the house is 
quiet, try to see how many good reasons you 
can count.” 

. The next morning each girl and boy in 
Mrs. Johnson’s room found a letter on his 
desk. Thirty-three pair of eager hands op¬ 
ened the letters, and thirty-three happy faces 
turned toward their teacher. This is what 
the letters said: 

Booker T. Washington School 
November 27 
My dear Student, 

May I tell you why this season of the 
year means so much to me? 

( 146 ) 



For health and strength, for clothes and 
food, and for the comforts of a home, I thank 
my Heavenly Father. 

For the best school I have ever had, for 
the cleanest, kindest boys and girls, for 
thoughts of love and happiness, I thank you 
and your parents. 

Sincerely yours, 

Mrs. Johnson 

“Mrs. Johnson, this is a kind letter,” 
said Betty. 

All the chil¬ 
dren wanted to 
thank their 
teacher for her 
letter. “We have 
never thought of 



sending letters at Thanksgiving. I wonder if 
our parents would enjoy them as much as we 
are enjoying this?” 

“That gives me a good idea!” Harold 
said. “I shall write down all the reasons I 
have for feeling thankful and send them to 
my mother and father.” 

“I think I shall try that, too,” said Hor¬ 
ace. 

“Let us keep the letters till Thanksgiv¬ 
ing Day,” suggested Betty. “We can put 
them under the plates. Mother and Father 
will find them when they sit down to eat din¬ 
ner. It will be a surprise. I am sure it will 
make them happy.” 

The children wrote their letters very 
carefully. “We must show our parents how 
well we can write and spell,” they said. 

“Yes, and we must live up to Booker T. 

( 148 ) 


Washington’s college examination. Our let¬ 
ters must be neat and clean,” added Harold. 

“We can keep this for another secret,” 
said Helen. “I like secrets better than any¬ 
thing. Mother thinks secrets are fun too.” 

And so the happy children worked away 
trying to write letters that would make their 
parents proud and pleased. To look at them, 
you might have thought that they were really 
taking a “college examination.” 

It would have done your heart good to 
see the happy families that Thanksgiving 
Day. Many of them did not have a fine din¬ 
ner. Many a table had no turkey, or even 
chicken, on it. But there was not a table that 
did not have letters on it, and every letter 
was full of love and thanks to the kind par¬ 
ents of all those thirty-three children. 

The next day Mrs. Johnson saw John 

( 149 ) 


Henry’s mother on the street. She smiled 
and said, “Good-morning - , Mrs. Jackson. I 
hope you had a pleasant Thanksgiving - .” 

John Henry’s mother replied, “Thank 
you, Mrs. Johnson. It was the best Thanks¬ 
giving we have ever had. We had thought it 
would be hard not to have a turkey for 
Thanksgiving, but we forgot we had no tur¬ 
key. Who could miss a turkey when love and 
thankful hearts are at the table?” 

SOMETHING YOU MAY DO 

1. Tell your class about your most in¬ 
teresting Thanksgiving. 

2. Make a list of reasons you have for 
feeling thankful on Thanksgiving. 

3. Think of something you can do to 
make some one else happy on Thanksgiving. 

4. Which would you rather have for 

( 150 ) 


your Thanksgiving, a happy heart or a tur¬ 
key? Why? 

5. Tell the story of the first Thanks¬ 
giving in America. 


(150 


Black Sambo and 
LiT Hannibal 

One day Betty was 
reading a book. She was 
sitting on one of the 
orange-box chairs that the 
boys had built for the li¬ 
brary. It was such a com¬ 
fortable place to sit that 

Betty fell asleep. 

Along came a dream. 

“Such a noise!” thought Betty. “What 
can it be?” She looked toward the book 
shelves. “Oh, my! Oh, me!” cried she. Her 
eyes grew as big as saucers! 

A book on the top shelf flew open and 
out ran Black Sambo and LiT Hannibal, cry¬ 
ing as if their hearts would break. 

( 152 ) 





Betty was so surprised that she could 
only sit there with her mouth wide open. 
Black Sambo ran too close to the edge of the 
shelf. She was sure he would fall, but she 
could not lift a hand to help him. 

“I don’t like it!” screamed LiT Black 
Sambo, sitting down on the shelf and fan¬ 
ning himself with his little straw hat. 

“I won’t have it!” shouted Sambo, tear¬ 
ing his hair. “Look at me! Just look at me! 
They have dressed me in these silly blue 
trousers. That was not enough, so they put 
on this awful red coat. Take a look at these 
shoes! Who ever heard of a real boy that 


( 153 ) 






wore red shoes? But that is not the worst of 
it. I might have stood for the blue trousers 
and the red coat and shoes. It is this green 
umbrella that is the last straw. I won’t have 
it! I tell you, I won’t have it!” 

Black Sambo shouted and screamed and 
howled. He ran this way and that way. He 
jumped up and down right on the edge of the 
shelf. He pulled at his clothes and tried to 
kick the red shoes off. 

Li’l’ Hannibal had been sitting in the 
corner of the book shelf, crying great soap- 
bubble tears. Sambo made such a noise that 
Hannibal stopped crying and walked toward 
him. “What in the world is the matter with 
you?” he asked. 

“Can you ask such a question after see¬ 
ing me in this outfit?” cried Sambo. 

“Well, I admit you do not look like your- 

( 154 ) 


self,” replied Hannibal. “I thought perhaps 
you were taking the part of a clown, or some¬ 
thing, in a play.” 

“Clown! Clown!” shouted Sambo. “I 
know I look like a clown. But this is not a 
play. They are sending me on a long journey. 
I shall meet many boys and girls. They will 
think I am really like this all the time. They 
will look at me and laugh at me day after day. 
They will draw pictures of me in these 
clothes! They will talk about the funny black 
boy in the bright clothes. Imagine being seen 
in these colors! Think of meeting fine boys 
and girls who might become friends if they 
could see me as I really am. Alas! They will 
think I am just a funny clown! I do not like 
to be laughed at, do you?” and Sambo began 
to howl and to tear at his clothes again. 


( 155 ) 



“Why should you care about your 
clothes?” asked Hannibal. “You have heard 
the old saying - ‘Clothes don’t make the man.’ 
Look at me. I have real troubles. It is my 
character, not my clothes, that I am worried 
about. All the boys and girls will think I am 
a lazy, good-for-nothing person. Oh, the dis¬ 
grace! I am so ashamed! All they ever hear 
about me is that I ran away from home be¬ 
cause I did not want to work!” 

Hannibal sat .down again. He was so 
very tired from “fetchin’ and totin’.” A large 
soap-bubble tear fell on his hand. He was too 
tired to brush it off. 


( 156 ) 






“Help! Help!” screamed Sambo. “Come 
and help me take these clothes off, Hanni¬ 
bal.” 

Sambo jumped up and down until the 
books on the shelf shook and trembled. He 
howled and shouted, “I want some good 
clothes! I don’t want to look like a clown! 
Help me take these off! Help! Help! Help!” 

Hannibal ran to help him. Just then 
there came a strange sound, and out of their 
book-cages jumped the tigers. “Gr-r-r! 
Gr-r-r! Gr-r-r-r-r!” they growled. “We will 
take those clothes. Gr-r-r-r-r!” 


( 157 ) 


They jumped at Sambo. They reached 
for his coat. They pulled at his trousers. They 
bit his shoes. They snapped at his umbrella. 
They ran around him so fast that Betty was 
dizzy from looking at the whirling yellow 
and black stripes. Such a noise! The tigers 
screamed and growled while Sambo shouted 
and howled! 



Betty could not move. 
She watched them whirl 
right on the edge of the 
shelf. They were falling, 
down, down! She could 
not lift a hand to help 
them. 

Just then the bell 
rang. Betty thought the 
sound was made by the 
tigers and Sambo as they 




struck the floor. She 
was half-awake. “Help! 
Mrs. Johnson, come 
quickly!” she cried. 

Mrs. Johnson ran 
to Betty. She shook her 
gently. “Betty!” she 
called. “What is it?” 

“The tigers! Black Sambo! They fell 
off the shelf!” said Betty. 

“Wake up, Betty!” said Mrs. Johnson. 
“You have been dreaming. Black Sambo is 
on your lap. You must have been reading 
about him before you went to sleep.” 

Betty looked down in surprise. Sure 
enough, there was the book in her lap. 

“I guess it was a dream,” she said. “I am 
glad it was not true. If Sambo and Hannibal 



( 159 ) 


could come to life and talk, I wonder if they 
would feel angry and sad. What would we 
think if a boy should come to our school 
dressed like Sambo? Who would want a 
friend that ran away from home to keep 
from working? Poor Black Sambo! Poor LiT 
Hannibal!” 


(ICO) 


Friends Who Help 

One day Mrs. Johnson saw Horace sit¬ 
ting alone. There was a worried look on his 
face. She asked, “What is the matter?” 

“I have been thinking about the world,” 
said Horace. “I was thinking about white 
people and black people. I was just wonder¬ 
ing if they are ever real friends. Do they ever 
help each other?” 

Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Of course they 
help each other, Horace. Many of Booker T. 
Washington’s best friends were white. The 
man he loved most of all 
was white.” 

“Who was that?” 
asked Horace. 

“He was Mr. Arm- 



strong, president at Hampton when Mr. 
Washington went to school there. He was 
one of many white people who have given 
time and money to help our race.” 

“But is there never anything we can do 
to help white people?” asked Horace. 

“We always help both white and black 
people when we are good citizens,” said Mrs. 
Johnson. “But there have been many times 
when our people have helped white persons. 

“During the war for freedom, when the 
white men were away from home fighting, 
there was no one to look after the women and 
children but the slaves. Those slaves would 
have given their lives for their white folks. 
Some of them did. 

‘ ‘After the war, many of them went back 
to the old plantations to help plant and cul¬ 
tivate the crops. They knew that their white 

( 162 ) 


folks needed them.” 

“That was long ago,” 
said Horace. “White peo¬ 
ple do not need our help 
now.” 

John Henry, who had 
joined the group said, “Booker T. Washing¬ 
ton told us that we can make our race needed 
by doing our work better than any one else 
can do it.” 

“That is true,” answered Mrs. Johnson. 
“Try to remember what Mr. Washington told 
his people. No matter what we may be doing, 
if it is hard, dirty work, or the work of a 
teacher, a lawyer, or a business man, do that 
work better than any other person can do it.” 

Horace still looked sad. “I want to know 
of some Negro who has really done some¬ 
thing to help a white person,” he said. 

( 163 ) 



“Very well,” replied Mrs. Johnson. “I 
will tell you two stories. One of them is about 
a Negro who saved the lives of many white 
people. The other story is about some white 
women and men who have helped many Ne¬ 
gro children.” 


( 164 ) 



John Little 



In January, 1935, there was a terrible 
flood along the Mississippi River. You know 
that the Mississippi is the largest river in 
North America. When the water from the 
heavy rains and the melting snow comes 
rushing down, the Mississippi often can not 
hold so much water within its banks. It runs 



over miles and miles of land. 

When the news came , that a flood was 
on its way, some of the people left the low 
country along the river. Others said, “We 
are on higher ground. The flood will not 
reach us. We do not want to leave our homes 
and our animals. We will stay here.” 

But the January flood was one of the 
worst that had ever come. It did reach the 
higher ground. Many people would have 
been drowned if it had not been for John 
Little. 

When the water came roaring down the 
river, it covered houses and barns. Animals 
were swept away and drowned. People 
climbed on the roofs of the houses. The water 
carried some of the houses away. The people 
caught the branches of trees as they went by 

on the house tops. They climbed as high as 

( 168 ) 


they could in the trees. 

The cold north wind blew upon these 
people. Some of them were almost frozen be¬ 
fore John Little brought help. 

John Little was a Negro. He knew where 
to find a boat three miles away. He had no 
way to go to the boat except in a little canoe 
that he had made from an old log. He 
thought, “I will try to get the boat. I will row 
my little canoe. It is the only way to save the 
people. I do not know that I can bring the 
boat back, but I will try.” 

It was late at night. The weather was 
- freezing cold. John Little had no overcoat 
t and no warm clothes. He took his tiny log 
boat and rowed through the darkness and 
; the icy waters until he came to the big boat, 
fHe found the oars frozen in the ice. He had 
no ax or hammer, so he dug the oars out with 

067) 


his hands. Then he rowed the boat back and 
saved the lives of a hundred persons. 

John Little’s hands were frozen so ter¬ 
ribly that he lost the ends of some of his fin¬ 
gers. His clothes were so frozen that they had 
to be cut from his body. 

This Negro had been brave and unself¬ 
ish. The people, black and white, were very 
thankful to him. They took him to the hos¬ 
pital and gave him the best of care. They did 
not think about his color. They did not care. 
He had been ready to give his life to help 
them. 

They said, “The old Mississippi would 



surely have taken us if it had not been for 
this brave Negro, John Little.” 


( 169 ) 


Helping Homeless Children 

About one hundred years ago, two white 
women took eleven Negro children from a 
poorhouse, in New York City, and made a 
home for them. At that time there was no 
place in New York City for poor colored chil¬ 
dren who had no homes. They were sent to 
the jails or the poorhouses. 

The white women, Miss Mary Murray 
and Miss Anna Shotwell, bought a pretty 
white cottage on Twelfth Street. It looked 
like the cottage in the picture on the next 
page. Here Miss Murray and Miss Shotwell 
brought the little colored people and tried to 
make them happy. 

All the children were less than ten years 
old. Two of them were babies, too little to 

( 170 ) 


walk. The white women carried these two in 
their arms to the pretty white cottage. 

For six years, the little people were hap¬ 
py in their home on Twelfth Street. Then the 
white cottage was burned. But the young 
women did not let the children go back to the 
poorhouse. They took them to a small place 
in the country while they tried to find an¬ 
other home for them. 

Two years later, the city gave the young 
women some land. Another home was built. 



It was a large house with room for two hun¬ 
dred children. You see, these white women 
did not stop when they had helped the first 
eleven. As the years went by they found more 
and more orphans and poor homeless chil¬ 
dren. They took them into the large Home 
also. 

For ten years Miss Murray and Miss 
Shotwell made life pleasant for their little 
colored friends at the new home. They found 
other white people who were willing to help 
the Negro children too. There were teachers 
and nurses and other helpers in the Home. 

Then a sad thing happened. Some very 
unkind persons who did not like to see the 
Negroes happy in their good Home set the 
house on fire. Some of the children were in 
the school rooms with their teachers; the 


( 172 ) 


babies were being cared for in their play 
rooms; and children who were ill were lying 
on their beds in the hospital. The mob broke 
down the front door and started fires in 
many rooms. 

The superintendent was a white man 
named Mr. Davis. He learned what the mob 
had done. He stopped just long enough to 
make a short prayer, then he showed the 
poor frightened children how to march out 
of the burning house. 

Can you think how the mob felt when 
those little Negro boys and girls marched 
out? Their only home was burning. Their 
clothes, their books, their toys and every¬ 
thing they had would soon be gone. But the 
children obeyed Mr. Davis and came out 
quietly. Even the babies made no sound as 


( 173 ) 


the nurses carried them to a place where they 
would be safe. 

All at once a little girl ran back into the 
burning building. The superintendent called 
to her, but she did not stop. Before anyone 
could find the courage to follow her, she came 
out again carrying a heavy load. Was it a 
child she had risked her life to save? 

“No!” thought Mr. Davis. “It can’t be a 
child. The children are all out of the house.” 

They saw her load was big and black. 
When they learned it was the Bible, those 
unkind people were ashamed of what they 
had done. This little girl loved the Bible 
enough to risk her life to save it from the 
fire! 

If the white women and other friends 
had not been very brave, those two hundred 
children would have had no place to go and 

( 174 ) 


nothing to eat. But Miss Murray and Miss 
Shotwell took the Bible and the children and 
found another place for them. 

In 1907 a beautiful Home was built on a 
high hill overlooking the Hudson River. 
There is a large building in the center. It 
looks something like the home in the picture, 
but there are several cottages. The children 
live in the cottages. They go to school in the 
large building. There is a wonderful play¬ 
ground where the children can play in the 
fresh air and sunshine. They have little time 
to feel lonely or unhappy. 



As long as Miss Murray and Miss Shot- 
well lived they worked for Negro children. 
The families they left behind are still carry¬ 
ing on the good work. The superintendent of 
the Home is Dr. Mason Pittman. He has been 
there twenty-three years. He is very proud 
of the Home and of the children who have 
lived there. 

Nearly nine thousand children have 
been cared for since the two white women 
took those eleven Negroes from the poor- 
house long ago. All who have lived in the 
Home love to visit there and to tell about the 
good times they enjoyed when they were 
small. Some of these men and women send 
money to help the Home take care of other 
orphans. 

Every Sunday the children and their 
teachers have Sunday School. They still read 

( 176 ) 


from the Bible every day in this Home. They 
love their Bible more than any other book. 

They love to sing. The glee club from 
the Home has been singing over the radio 
for about eight years. These boys and girls 
sing over WJZ every Sunday morning at 
nine-thirty. They sing for churches and give 
many other programs in New York City. 

Dr. Pittman says, “I like to hear the glee 
club sing. The children make fine music. I 
enjoy good music. Best of all, I like to hear 
them sing because I know they are happy 
when they are singing.” 

Dr. Pittman is a white man. He is giving 
his life to the work his parents and grand¬ 
parents gave theirs—the joy of helping other 
people. 


( 177 ) 


SOMETHING TO DO 


1. Tell your class of a white person you 
know, who helps colored people. 

2. Tell of a Negro who helps white peo¬ 
ple. 

3. What can you do to help white peo¬ 
ple? 

4. What can you do to help colored peo¬ 
ple? 

5. How can people who have no money 
help others? 

6. Which would you rather have: 

(a) money or gifts from people who 
do not love you? 

(b) friendship and kindness from 
people who have no money to 
give? 


( 178 ) 


Gifts 



A pleasant smile, a friendly voice, 

A helping - hand in time of need, 

A cheery visit when I’m ill, 

A book or paper I can read; 

An understanding look or word, 

A cup of water shared in love, 

A flower from a trusting child— 

All these are gifts from Heav’n above. 


Signs In The Park 

Near John Henry’s house there was a 
beautiful park. The grass looked like a soft 
green carpet. Flowers nodded and waved gay 
greetings on each side of the clean sandy 
walks. There were swings and see-saws un¬ 
der the tall shade trees. There was a wading 
pond. The fountain in the center of the pond 
was a cool place to be near, even on the hot¬ 
test days. It was fun to play in the park. 

When they were tired of playing, the 
children loved to sit in the shade and enjoy 



the beautiful park. 

One morning Harold 
was almost late for school. 

In his haste, he did not fol¬ 
low the path through the park. He went 
across the grass. He knew that jay-walking 
and cutting corners are not the best and saf¬ 
est plans, but he was in a hurry. 

Another boy behind him followed Har¬ 
old. Others saw the dim path and because it 
seemed to save a little time they, too, went 
across the grass. Soon the path was quite 
plain. 

Mrs. Johnson saw the path. She told her 
boys and girls about it. “If people do not stop 
walking on the grass, it will be killed.” 

“Oh, the grass will grow and cover the 
path in no time when spring comes,” said 
Harold. 



( 181 ) 


“But people will go on walking there 
next spring. They will think it is a real path,” 
answered Betty. 

“We can make some signs,” suggested 
John Henry. “We can put the signs where 
they begin walking on the grass.” 

“Who wants ugly old signs?” asked 
Helen. “They always say, ‘Don’t! Don’t! 
Don’t!’ One says, ‘Don’t walk on the grass’; 
another says, ‘Don’t stand in the swings.’ 
They never tell us anything to do” 

“We can make our signs different,” an¬ 
swered Mary. “Wait a minute!” and she 
drew some large letters on paper. Then she 
held her paper so that all could see. “How is 
this?” 

PLEASE USE 
THE SANDY WALKS 


( 182 ) 



“Fine!” cried the boys and girls. Even 
Helen liked Mary’s sign. 

The boys found some boards. The girls 
drew large letters on the boards. Mrs. John¬ 
son found some black paint and a small 
brush. 

While the signs were being made, Hor¬ 
ace said, “Tell us a story, Mrs. Johnson.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Johnson, please do,” said the 
other children. 

“I shall be glad to tell you a story,” said 
Mrs. Johnson. “See if you 
can find your way to the 
park in my story. I wonder 
how many will want to 
walk on the grass in my 
park?” 

“What kind of story 
will you tell?” asked Hor- 



ace. 


“I shall tell you the story of a small black 
boy,” answered Mrs. Johnson. 

WHAT DO YOU THINK? 

1. The park does not belong to any one. 
Why not walk where you choose? 

2. If you were about to be late which 
would you do: 

Cut across the grass? 

Use the walks, but hurry? 

Go back home? 

Take your time and not worry? 

3. Which is worth more, the beautiful 
park, or the time saved by a short cut? Why 
do you think so? 

4. Have you a park near your school? 
What can you do to help make a pretty park? 


( 184 ) 


The Small Black Boy 


Once there was a small black boy. He 
lived in a little house that had never felt the 
touch of a paint brush. It was a frightened 
looking house, sitting close to the cabins be¬ 
side it. Up and down, on each side, the street 
was lined with unpainted houses. What a 
dusty place it was in dry weather; and what 
a mud-puddle when it rained! 

On the other side of the little stream 
that ran near his kitchen door, was a spot 
that worried the small black boy. It was such 
a dirty spot. People brought their old tin 
cans, broken furniture, and waste-food there. 
They threw these on the ground. Every day, 
a new load was added. 

It was a fine place for mosquitoes and 

( 185 ) 



flies. Even the rats and mice found it nice. 
But the boy did not enjoy this spot. 

“Some day!” he said to himself. “Some 
day, I will clean up that place!” 

High on a hill at the other end of town 
he could see the bright colored roofs of beau- 


use > 




tiful homes. He liked to sit on the door step 
with his chin in his hand and dream of the 
homes up there. 

The dump yard lay between him and the 
hill. By rolling his eyes high, he could almost 
look over it; but he could never quite forget 
that it was there. 

And so, when he had dreamed awhile, he 
would get his wagon. It was a queer kind of 
wagon. Really, it was only a box on wheels. 
But it would hold dirt. The boy would load 


it full. Then he would hitch his goat to it and 
away they would go to the dump yard. There 
he would carefully spread the dirt to cover as 
many cans as he could. 

Every day, this little man tried to cover 
more cans. Because he was such a small 
young man, no one knew what he was doing. 
If people saw him down there they thought 
he was only playing. Long before his mother 
came home from work in the evening* he was 
too tired to work any more. She always found 
him sitting on the door step with his chin in 
his hand, looking to¬ 
ward the hill. 

“Mother, what was 
it like up there today?” 
he would say. 

His mother would 
stop and sit beside him. 




Together they would look toward the hill and 
she would tell him what she had seen that 
day. 

“The houses are large and comfortable. 
There are many windows to let in the light 
of the sun and the cool air. There are wide 
lawns covered with carpets of green grass. 
How you would love to lie on that soft grass 
under those big shady trees! All around, here 
and there, flowers bloom and send out their 
perfume. And the air! Oh, you can not imag¬ 
ine how clean and sweet it smells!” 

The black boy would take a deep breath 
as if he were smelling the perfume in the air. 
His mother would go into the kitchen. Then 
the boy would put his chin in his hand, lift 
his eyes above the dump yard, and dream of 
the beauty on the hill. 

Often he would sit until darkness hid the 


( 189 ) 



ugly spot on the other side of the little 
stream. He loved to watch the lights on the 
hill. They seemed to smile at him and say, 
“Some day! Some day!” 

Each morning the boy walked all around 
his little house. He called this his “morning 
hike.” Of course he called it that only when 
he talked to himself. 

While on his “morning hike” the boy 
looked carefully in every corner of the yard. 
If he found a tin can or a piece of paper, or 
anything that should not be there, he put it 
in his box-wagon. 


( 190 ) 


Then he hitched the goat to the wagon 
and away they went to the woods. 

No one knew where he went. No one 
worried about him. His mother had gone up 
on the hill to work. She thought her small 
boy was safe at home playing with Billy, the 
goat, or dreaming with his chin in his hand. 
She would have been much surprised if she 
had known what he was doing. 

It would have been easy to find out 
where the boy went. Every day the goat and 






the wagon wore the path a little plainer. But 
no one followed the path. 

No one knew that, far out in the woods, 
at least a mile from any house, there was a 
large hole in the ground. The dirt that came 
from this hole had been carefully spread on 
the waste in the dump yard. At first it was 
only a tiny hole; but because the small boy 
dug there every day, it had grown deeper 
and deeper. It had grown wider, too. 

Far over in the deepest end, the small 
buy emptied his wagon. Then he took his hoe 
and covered the paper and cans. Next, he 

( 192 ) 


filled the wagon with dirt and away he went 
once again. 

Before noon, if you had looked, you 
would have seen that a few more cans had 
been covered on the other side of the stream. 

One summer the small boy was six years 
old. “You can start to school in September,” 
said his mother. 

He wanted to go to school. He had seen 
the teacher when she came to visit his next 
door neighbor last winter. He had thought 
to himself, “She is the cleanest person I have 
ever seen. She looks kind and happy, too. I 
shall be glad when I can go to her school.” 

But when September came, it was hard 
to find time for his “dirt work,” as he called 
it. Of course no person had heard him call 
it that. He did not talk to people about it. 
He talked only to himself and to Billy, the 

(193) 


goat; and the goat always kept the boy’s se¬ 
crets. The small boy would say, “Come, Billy, 
we must do our dirt work!” or “A little more 
dirt work, Billy, and that new load will be 
covered.” 

After he started to school he had to get 
up early so that he could do his “dirt work” 
before nine o’clock. 

He hurried home after school each day 
to take another load or two. He was older 
now, and could work faster. 

One day the teacher came to his home. 







She saw how very clean his yard was. Some 
of the other yards on the street were not so 
clean. She saw the ugly spot on the other 
side of the stream. 

She said to herself, “I shall walk over 
there on my way home. Perhaps I can think 
of something to do about that dump yard.” 

She saw the dirt covered places. She 
saw the path that led to the woods. “I will 
follow this little path,” she thought. “I won¬ 
der where it goes?” 

She came to the end of the path, and saw 
the big, deep hole. Over in the deepest end, 



she saw a little hill. “What is that?” she said 
to herself. “It looks strange!” 

When the teacher learned what was un¬ 
der the little hill, she stood still a long time. 
She seemed to be looking far away. 

At last she drew a long breath and said, 
“I just can’t figure it all out!” 

As she followed the path away from the 
deep hole, she noticed that it divided. One 
path went toward the street where the small 
boy lived. The other path went toward the 
dump yard. 

The teacher took the path that ran to¬ 
ward the street. “I must learn where this 
goes,” she thought. “Perhaps it will help me 
to understand.” 

The small boy was surprised to see his 
teacher in the street near his house. “I 

thought she had gone home an hour ago,” he 

( 106 ) 


said to Billy as he hitched him to the wagon. 
“Maybe she stopped to visit some of the other 
boys and girls. We must hurry if we are go¬ 
ing to do our dirt work today.” 

And away they went, the boy, the goat, 
and the little box-wagon, up the path and 
into the woods. 

The teacher watched until the trees hid 
them from sight. She looked again at the 
clean yard. “Now I understand,” she said. 
“But what a small boy for so big a task! 
What a brave little man he is!” 

Every day during the next week the 
teacher came to the street. She saw the small 
boy and his goat, busy with their “dirt 
work”; but they did not see her. She talked 
with the mothers and fathers up and down 
the street. They made plans together; but 
they did not tell the boy about their plans. 

( 197 ) 







































The small black boy worked away, day 
after day, not knowing - that there was a se¬ 
cret on his street. 

On Saturday morning - , the teacher had 
a talk with the mayor of the town. In her 
kind, quiet way, she told him the story of the 
small black boy. She said, “We want to help 
him. Will you help us? We will clean up that 

(199) 



place if you will see that no more trash is 
thrown there. We will make it a spot of which 
our town can feel proud.” Then she ex¬ 
plained the secret plans that had been made 
by the boy’s neighbors. 

The mayor said, “I shall look into this 
matter. I can not understand why we use 
that place for a dump yard, anyway. It is too 
close to town.” 

“Thank you,” said the teacher. “You will 
And our people ready to do our part in mak¬ 
ing that a beauty spot instead of a home for 
mosquitoes and flies.” 

When the teacher had gone, the mayor 
thought, “I’ll take a look at that dump yard. 
How do I know this story is true?” 

Just as he arrived, the small boy and his 
goat came down the path. The mayor 


( 200 ) 


watched him spread his dirt over the cans. 
He saw what a small boy it was. He remem¬ 
bered how the child had worked and worked 
to cover the cans. “I am going to help that 
black boy!” the mayor said. “I wish there 
were more people in the world like him!” 

The following week, there was a story 
in the paper about the small black boy and 
his “dirt work.” There was also an order 
from the mayor. It said: 

“A new dump yard will be found a mile 
and a half north of town. Signs are being 
put up to point the way there. No more trash 



is to be thrown on the old dump yard.” 

The small boy could not read the news¬ 
paper; so his mother read it to him. The or¬ 
der from the mayor made him very happy. 
“Now, I can soon have it all covered!” he 
cried. 

“We are going - to help you,” said his 
mother. “Our plans are made. Every man, 
woman, and child in this part of town will be 
there tomorrow. If one small boy can do so 
much alone, think what all of us can do work¬ 
ing together!” 

The boy was up early the next morning. 
He took his “morning hike” and cleaned his 
yard quickly. He went to the woods with his 
trash. As he came down the path, he saw a 
strange sight. The old dump yard was alive 
with real wagons and teams and people! Such 

a hammering and pounding! Such laughing 

( 202 ) 


and singing 1 ! 

They put the larger pieces of cars and 
furniture on the wagons. They broke and 
pounded the rest together. They raked it to 
make it as level as they could. The wagons 
brought great loads of dirt. 

In a few hours the cans were covered. 
The men spread loads and loads of rich soil 
on top of the cans. They brought large trees 
and set them in the ground in deep holes. 
Then they smoothed the fresh, clean dirt and 
planted grass and flowers. 

While the work was going on across the 
stream, the boys and girls began to clean 
their own yards better. They found that by 
cleaning every day, it did not take long. Soon 
each yard was as clean as it could be, not just 
on Saturday or Sunday, but all the time. 

When summer came, the place where 

(203) 


the dump yard had been, was a very beauti¬ 
ful spot. How the small boy loved to look at 
the soft green grass! How cool and pleasant 
it was under the trees! How pretty the flow¬ 
ers were! How sweet the air smelled! It 
made him very happy. 

Still there were times when he sat on the 
kitchen steps with his chin on his hand. 
Sometimes he looked at the beautiful park 
on the other side of the stream. Sometimes 



he looked at the bright roofs on the hill. “Oh, 
how I wish our homes were beautiful, too!” 
he thought. He did not need to roll his eyes 
high now. They were bright and shining as 
he said to himself, “Some day!” 


( 205 ) 







































After The Story 

“Mrs. Johnson, is that a true story about 
the small black boy?” asked Horace. 

“Well, it could be a true story,” said 
Helen. “I wonder if that is how our park was 
begun?” 

“Oh, that story could not be about our 
park,” replied Harold. “Stories like that are 
only make-believe.” 

“The park is across the small stream 
from our houses,” suggested Helen. “I heard 
my mother say that there was once a dump 
yard where our beautiful park is now.” 

“But the houses!” Harold said. “Where 
are the ugly houses? It can’t be a story of our 
own street. Our houses are painted and pret¬ 
ty.” 


( 207 ) 


Mrs. Johnson smiled and said, “That is 
another story about the same black boy. 
What do you think he was dreaming of when 
he looked toward the hill? Why did his eyes 
shine when he looked at the bright colored 
roofs? What did he mean when he said to 
himself, ‘Some day!’ ” 

“But a small boy cannot paint houses!” 
Harold said. 

John Henry suggested, “A small boy can 
not build a park alone; but he can do his part 
so well that others will want to help him. 
Booker T. Washington told us that we can 



solve any problem if we stick to it and try.” 

Betty said, “Booker T. Washington once 
told his students: 

‘I never see bits of paper 
around a house or in the street 
that I do not want to pick them up. 

I never see a dirty yard that I do 
not want to clean it up. I never see 
a dirty, unpainted house that I do 
not want to paint it.’ 

“Perhaps the small boy felt as Booker 
T. Washington did. Perhaps he did find a way 
to paint his house as soon as he was old 
enough. Perhaps when his neighbors saw 
how pretty it looked, they painted their 
houses, too.” 

“That is just what happened,” said Mrs. 
Johnson. “The small boy learned how to stick 


( 209 ) 


to his work when he was little. He decided 
to make his town beautiful. 

“When he was older, he worked and 
saved his money. At first it was very hard to 
find work. Whenever the small boy found 
work, he did it so well that people wanted him 
again. 

“He built lovely lawns where grass and 
weeds had grown high. He shined shoes un¬ 
til they were like new. He ran errands more 
quickly than any one else. He was always 
honest and polite. He kept himself clean and 
cheerful. 

“As he grew older he found better ways 
of making a living. But no matter what he 
did, he found a way to make his work beauti¬ 
ful. When he had saved enough to paint his 
own house, he helped his neighbor paint the 
house next door. 


( 210 ) 



“Soon the street which had been so dusty 
and ugly, found itself lined with neatly 
painted houses with bright colored roofs. 
And all this came about because one small 
black boy had a dream of beauty and worked 
hard to make it come true.” 

“He was a good color bearer,” said John 
Henry. 

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Johnson. “He was 
a good color bearer. As you think of him I 
want you to remember that even a very small 


( 211 ) 


person can change a whole town if he carries 
his colors high and walks straight ahead to¬ 
ward the place he wants to go.” 


(- 32 ) 


VOCABULARY STUDY 


The total number of new words used in Book Three 
is 589, of which 53 starred below are forms of words ap¬ 
pearing in Book One or Book Two. 

Of the total 589 new words used in this book, 537 of 
them, including proper names and words used in quotations 
and poems, are listed by either Gates or Thorndike as be¬ 
longing in the vocabulary of the first three grades. 91% 
of the words used are listed by Gates or Thorndike. 

The average repetition of all words in this book is 
18.7 times. 

The total number of running words is 21,061. The 
ratio of running words to new words is 35.6. 

The average number of new words per page is 2.7. 

Only 82 words used in Books One and Two have been 
dropped. 

Words not listed by either Gates or Thorndike as of 
third grade importance are: 


allegiance 

arithmetic 

Armstrong 

Booker 

William H. Carney 

crease 

crisp 

dizzy 

dump 

extra 

Fort Wagner 

Gr-r-r 

Hampton 

hike 

hitch 

indivisible 

jay-walking 

John Henry Jackson 


LiT Hannibal 

molasses 

mosquitoes 

patter 

Pilgrims 

platform 

poppity-pop-pop 

’Possum 

poster 

prominent 

puddle 

Queen Victoria 
regiment 

Robert Gould Shaw 

Saint*-Gaudens 

Sambo 

saucers 


Scout 

selfish 

shawl 

slate 

stripes 

subtract 

superintendent 

syrup 

tattle-tale 

trash 

Tuskegee 

United States 

vase 

visitors 

waddle 

wading 

zi-i-ing 


( 213 ) 


WORD LIST 

New words are listed under the headings of stories 
in which they first appear, rather than by pages. 


September 


Lunch Time 


happiness 

A New School 

John Henry Jackson 

family 

birds 

most 

shirt 

carefully* 

feel 

met 

third 

card 

brought 

seat 

quite 

comfortable 

remember 

each 

front 

hide 

whispered 

around 

hid* 

clapped 

replied 

list 

How Well Did 
You Read? 

group 

describe 

cross 

helpful* 

tall 


lunch 

soap 

nails 

dried 

behind 

held* 

napkin 

fork 

vegetables 

small 

bites 

quietly 

finished 

The Palace of 
Politeness 

whose* 

sisters 

questions 

hunt 

through 

path 

led 

fish 

stream 

forest 

fanned 

tails 

faster 

might 

top 

branch 

happened 

reached 

trousers 

air 

shouted 


rabbit 

squirrels 

Zip 

followed 

hurry 

bushes 

thick 

knees 

crawl 

rocks 

ahead* 

suddenly 

surprise 

believe 

watch 

knocking 

covered 

cloth 

strange 

Peter 

Sly Fox 

’Possum 

mittens 

prominent 

folks 

Turtle 

barked 

chased 

Pussy 

queer 

tongue 

hanging 

rough 

condition 

shell 

shawl 

bear 

manners 


( 214 ) 


Goose 

patter 

breath 

waddle 

enough 

blinked 

even 

between 

Gruff 

act 

bowed 

folded 

spoons 

bowls 

don’t* 

excuse 

ashamed 

imagine 

rude 

disgrace 

knife 

leave 

Buying Books 

cost 

dollars 

spend 

purse 

cars 

safe 

tipped 

cap 

store 

pocket 

arithmetic 

add 

piece 

language 

less 

change 

should 

around 


New Books 

haste 

quickly 

sorry 

directions 

flat 

crease 

joins 

fourth* 

along* 

alone 

easily 

library 

born 

subtract 

interesting 

salt 

mines 

marks 

bugs 

snakes 

cabin 

slate 

stick 

Booker* 

during 

taught* 

Washington 

useful* 

A Book 

fame 

garments 

lace 

station 

cheer 

silent 

fear 

More About Booker 
T. Washington 

ill 

busy 


else 

dinner 

basket 

kitchen 

tub 

students 

glass 

hole 

few 

tin 

cups 

course 

corn 

perhaps 

fat 

later 

potato 

pot 

picked 

fingers 

molasses 

treat 

poured 

spoonfuls* 

spread 

tasted 

anything* 

world 

flies 

start 

forth* 

promise 

moment 

Queen Victoria 

England 

invited 

President 

United States 

inches 

square 

ruler 

measure 

sheet 


( 215 ) 


dot 

indivisible 

ugly 

edge 

liberty 

trash 

The College 
Examination 

justice 

practice 

country 

march 

pardon 

pride 

waved 

choose 

almost* 

agreed 

citizen 

company 

arrived 

decide 

strangers* 

spoke 

belong* 

vote 

curtains 

winner 

pleasant 

vase 

cheerful* 

mistake 

earned 

loser 

waste-paper 

College 

shakes 

taken* 

Examination 

team 

walls 

Hampton 

heart 

boast 

ball 

Color Bearers 

suppose 

parents 

chosen* 

indeed* 

visitors 

meant 

jobs 

cultivate 

brave 

explain 

hate 

loyal 

cent 

permit 

terrible 

among 

matter 

fought 

tramp 

wrong 

against 

chance 

soldier 

regiment 

broom 

touches 

Massachusetts 

furniture 

passes 

Colonel Robert 

dusted 

Gould Shaw 

bench 

John Henry’s 

sons 

shelf 

Surprise 

travel 

handkerchief 

scarcely 

chin 

rubbed 

ears 

plain 

bit* 

recess 

William H. Carney 

fail 

noticed 

army 

twenty 

served 

Fort Wagner 

A Good Citizen 

quarrel 

spring 

mud 

enemy’s 

Zi-i-ing 

loaded 

guns 

flag 

buds 

alive* 

salute 

daisy 

battle 

pledge 

tiptoe 

doctor 

allegiance 

east 

monument 

America 

west 

Saint-Gaudens 

Republic 

tattle-tale 

mayor 

nation 

troubled 

Boston 


( 216 ) 


governor 

platform 

bands 

foolish 

selfish 

settle 

Color Bearers for 
The Race 
Hello 
real 
prove 
different 
leads* 
peace 
instead 
backward* 
wise 
person 
Scout 
parade 
troop 
banner 
gold 
easy* 
art 
envy 
strength 
confidence 
soil 
shame 
least 
forward* 
luck 
lazy 
reasons 

Planning a Library 

library 

build 

lumber 

riddle 

difference* 

painted 


idea 

rather 

eleven 

candy 

suggested 

October 

report 

secret 

poster 

Hurrah 

Making Popcorn 
Balls 

sugar 

waxed 

syrup 

packages 

hundred 

ninety-five* 

string 

apron 

stirred 

thread 

spider’s 

web 

hum 

crack 

popity-pop-pop 

crisp 

mixed 

grain 

cool 

shaped 

wrapped 

fresh 

struck 

fifty 

multiply 

figure 

worried 

compare 

solved 

problem 


Good Reports 

eager 

forty-five* 

several 

numbers 

Extra Money 

extra 

noon 

truck 

sixty-eight* 

thirty 

left 

orange 

fifteen 

Hallowe’en 

gay 

Tuskegee 

umbrella 

roof 

raised 

bricks 

fourteen* 

example 

Thanksgiving 

November 

turkey 

enjoy 

Pilgrims 

pair 

season 

health 

sincerely 

wonder 

Black Sambo and 
LiT Hannibal 

saucers 

flew 

break 

screamed 

straw 

won’t 


( 217 ) 


silly 

awful 

worst 

soap-bubble* 

toward 

admit 

clown 

journey 

alas 

character 

‘Fetching and toting 

shook 

trembled 

tigers 

cages 

Gr-r-r 


frozen 

boat 

except 

canoe 

weather 

freezing 

tiny 

rowed 

darkness* 

icy 

’oars 

ax 

hammer 

dug 

body 

hospital 


growled 

dizzy 

whirling 

stripes 

half 

gently 

angry 

Friends Who Help 

Mr. Armstrong 
plantations 
lawyer 
business 

John Little 

January 

Mississippi River 

largest 

melting 

snow 

rushing 

banks 

miles 

floor 

drowned 

roaring 

caught 

blew 


Helping Homeless 
Children 

New York City 

Murray 

Shotwell 

cottage 

shaded 

chestnut 

shelter 

orphans 

willing* 

nurses 

lying* 

mob 

superintendent 

frightened 

safety* 

smoke 

Hudson 

center 

glee club 

radio 

Gifts 

shared 

trusting 

above 


Signs In The Park 

carpet 

greetings 

sandy 

swings 

wading 

pond 

fountain 

jay-walking 

dim 

worth 

The Small Black Boy 

neighbors 

mud-puddle* 

stream 

rats 

nice 

end 

dump 

wagon 

wheels 

hitch 

evening* 

lawns 

bloom 

perfume 

smells 

hike 

wider* 

grown* 

emptied 

hoe 

winter 

divided 

goes* 

sight 

task 

thrown* 

order 

pounding 

raked 


( 218 ) 


level 

planted 

After the Story 

weeds 

errands 





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